The Wolf and the Lion
by leapylion3
Summary: Lyra Lannister sets off to join the Night's Watch under the alias of Elias Hill. Jon Snow/OC. Continued in 'Queen in the North'.
1. Prologue

With much delay, I have finally finished the first chapter of my new GoT fic! :D I've been thinking about doing a GoT fanfic for awhile, as it's pretty much become all I can think about, and I think it's safe to say that I'm hopelessly in love with Jon Snow *sigh*

Anyway, I'd like to thank my lovely beta-readers: thecrazydragon, Amara Kingley and amplexus! You guys rock!

* * *

_**Lyra**_

She held the knife in one hand, its blade glimmering in the dim light of her quarters. With a deep breath, she grabbed all of her hair and brought the tresses over one shoulder. In one swift movement, her waist length hair fell to the floor, landing in a small pile of limp, chestnut colored strands. It came off easily enough; the knife's sharp edge gave a nice, clean cut.

She lit another candle and grabbed her small mirror. Her hair was now slightly past her chin, its ends curling slightly upwards. She brushed her bangs over her forehead, to cover more of her face. Then she shoved the dagger back into its small scabbard on her belt, deciding that she looked convincing enough.

She tossed her trunk out of the window and jumped after it. Her horse, Strider, was already waiting for her, his reins tied to a nearby tree. The favour that she owed Jonah, her friend and the local stable boy, was too great to repay with a simple word of thanks, but she would somehow give him her gratitude him. If she ever saw him again, that is.

She strapped the trunk onto Strider's saddle, and braced two hands on the stallion's back. She lifted herself up, swinging her legs onto either side of him. She leaned forward and untied the reins, softly stroking the auburn fur on the horse's neck. At her hip, her dagger and her longsword rested in their leather scabbards; it had become a habit of hers to double and triple check. With one last glance at the castle, she spurred her strong horse's sides, and finally set off into the night.

* * *

The journey was longer than expected. What she thought would be a month's ride turned into a month and a half. Lyra couldn't use the Kingsroad; some suspicious band of travelers or wary smallfolk could have recognized her despite her disguise. And even if she did manage to evade their recognition, they could have beaten her, stolen her goods and raped her, if they came to know that she was actually a woman grown beneath her worn cloaks.

Her journey was long and tiring, but it was worth every second. Each step her mount took brought her further away from her father, mother and betrothed. With each step, she was brought further away from those monsters. Of course, she had oft thought of turning back, for the sake of her siblings. They had suffered for the family, without any protest. It was only fair that she did her part for her family. In the end, the irrational part of her always won, and it made her ride even faster for the Wall. She spent near all her time toiling for her freedom, all for the sake of setting her life to rights once more. There was no way in the Seven Hells that she would turn back.

* * *

The Wall rose seven hundred feet before her, but it seemed close to several thousand. She couldn't help but gape in awe at the sheer size of the structure. Lyra had never seen anything like it; the immense structure looked as if it was carved purely out of ice. Its off-white color shone in the bright sunlight, illuminating everything around it. Strider trotted slowly towards Castle Black, as if he, too, was mesmerized by the view.

Lyra took a deep breath and gently urged her horse faster toward the castle. His hooves thundered across freshly fallen snow. It was a sound that Lyra warmly welcomed. She relished in the feel of the cold wind slapping against her face. She had never been up North before, and now she was here for life. But she was happy. She would be safe. After several months of dreaming of escape, the wait was finally over. She was here. _She made it_.

* * *

_**Jon**_

It was the same thing for him, every day, the same routine. Wake up, wash up, get dressed, go downstairs to break his fast, train and spar for the whole day, sup, and eventually go to bed. Or try to, at least. Ever since the raven came with word from Winterfell, Jon couldn't stop thinking about his younger brother, Bran. It kept him up at night for the past week.

Brandon was awake, and he still seemed to have his health, but would he ever walk again? Would he and his brother ever be able to ride out beyond the Wall, like they always talked about? Jon knew about Bran's dreams of becoming a warrior; he could only imagine the devastation his brother would feel if he would never be able to mount a horse and serve the Realm.

Jon grunted as he felt a pain in his right side. Pyp had just struck him in his stomach with his training sword, and Jon had been too deep in his thoughts to notice. Snow swung his sword lamely at Pypar, but the small boy hopped out of the way just in time.

"_Snow_!" Ser Alliser Thorne, Castle Black's master-at-arms, growled, his trademark frown gracing his aged face. "_Focus_! You're almost as useless as the rest of them today!"

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but he turned his attention to the noise of a trotting horse coming through the gates. The rest of the recruits turned to watch a tiny boy sitting upon a steed, slowly approaching the large group. Jon met the boy's wide, green eyes for a moment, but the stranger quickly averted his eyes.

"Who are you?" Thorne barked, walking right up to the boy once he entered the courtyard. Jon noticed the knight fingering his longsword.

"Elias Hill, ser," He answered him quietly, with the slightest hesitation, meeting his eyes from under his long, dark bangs. "From Casterly Rock. I wish to join the Night's Watch, ser," Jon saw Elias' hands shaking while holding the reins of his horse.

"How old are you, boy?" Alliser asked roughly, narrowing his eyes.

"Fourteen, ser,"

"What brings you to the Night's Watch?"

Hill visibly swallowed. "My master got upset with my song," He spoke quickly, as if he couldn't wait to escape from under the stare of Ser Alliser Thorne. "He said it was insulting. So he gave me the choice- my tongue, or the Wall," After a few moments of silence, Elias swung a leg over his horse and jumped to the ground. "I hope I'll be allowed to stay here, ser," Jon thought he was tiny on the horse, but on the ground, Thorne towered over him by at least a head and a half. He still held his horse's reins, although the mount was very calm and unmoving.

"A singer, eh?" The knight glared at Elias, straightening his back so he was even taller. "Your last name is Hill, correct?"

"Aye,"

"A singer, _and _a bastard," Alliser laughed dryly and took the boy's trunk from off the saddle. He dropped it on the ground next to Elias. "How about you sing for us, _bastard_?" A few of the boys near Jon laughed uneasily.

Elias cleared his throat and looked around the courtyard, his eyes meeting Jon's once more. "I would love to, ser," He tore his gaze away from Jon and met Alliser's eyes. "But I am quite tired from my journey. I'm terribly sorry, ser. Perhaps another time," He gnawed on his bottom lip nervously.

"Very well," Thorne twisted his lips into a frown. He turned around to face the other recruits. "Snow!" He yelled. "Show your fellow bastard to his quarters."


	2. Chapter One

Hello! I'd like to say thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/subscribed! I was so surprised by the turnout! Thank you so much! :D

I'd also like to thank my lovely beta-reader thecrazydragon.

I (sadly) don't own anything (dammit Snow) except for Lyra and Strider. GRRM owns everything, which I am in fact thankful for, because he gave us an amazing series.

Enjoy!

* * *

_**Lyra**_

She quickly left the courtyard and dashed towards the stables, with Strider in tow. Anything to escape the stares of the other recruits and that bitter old knight. She kept her head down, hoping not to draw any unwanted attention to herself.

Lyra bit her lip as she secured her horse into one of the empty stalls. Her first encounter with the Night's Watch was one that she would have liked to forget, although she supposed she should be thankful that the knight let her stay. And then there was that damned boy…she desperately tried to rid her mind of him. Gods be good, she didn't even know his name! She smiled to herself as she remembered the melting snow in his unruly raven black hair. The whole time she was talking to the knight, she felt his gaze on her; whenever she would look over and meet his eyes, it was difficult to look away. Deep, dark eyes, filled with curiosity and…sadness.

"Dammit, you're quick,"

Lyra held back a yelp as she heard a voice behind her. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even heard the approaching footsteps.

"S-sorry," She stammered, whirling around to face the source of the voice. "I-I just thought I should bring Strider-"

"It's alright," The boy cut her off, a small smile making its way onto his lips. Lyra gasped inwardly when she realized it was the boy from before; the boy who had been watching her. "I'm Jon Snow, by the way," His voice was deep yet soft, and reassuring all the while. He held out his gloved hand to her.

A confused expression passed over her features for a split second before she recovered, praying he didn't notice her slip. Of _course _he wouldn't kiss her hand; she was no longer a noblewoman of Casterly Rock anymore. She was no longer a Lannister. Seven hells, she wasn't a _woman _anymore. She grasped his hand in a firm shake, offering him a small smile. "Elias Hill,"

"I know," He chuckled, releasing her hand. "How about we leave Strider to rest for a bit, and I'll show you to your quarters?" Snow reached out and rubbed Strider's nose affectionately. "He's lovely,"

"Thank you," Lyra replied quietly, bending down to grab her trunk. She dropped it and fell on her bottom in shock when she came face to face with a massive beast- _a wolf_. "J-Jon-"

"This is my direwolf, Ghost. Don't be afraid; he's only sniffing you. He won't do any harm," She barely heard him speak; Ghost's red eyes were boring into hers. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. Lyra only looked away when she felt Jon take her hand and help her up. "You'll get used to him," He assured her, clapping her on the shoulder. She nodded wordlessly and grabbed her trunk, following Jon out of the stables and into the cold, nipping air.

As they walked, Lyra took the time to really look at him. He was very handsome, there was no use arguing that. She wondered why he was here; she highly doubted he was a criminal or raper. What was his last name? …_Snow. _Of course- he was a bastard of the North. Jon Snow…wasn't he? "Jon? You're Stark's-"

"Bastard son?" His tone became icy, his jaw clenching. "Yes, Lord Eddard Stark is my father. I am his bastard son,"

"I-I was actually asking about the first ranger," She improvised, running her fingers through her short hair. It would take awhile to get used to its lacking length. "Benjen Stark. I was asking if he was your uncle," She felt guilty for upsetting him, although she silently thanked the gods for her quick wit and tongue. They had saved her many times before, and it didn't seem that they would let her down anytime soon.

Jon blushed as red as a maiden, staring at his boots. Lyra couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Y-yes, he's my uncle," Snow cleared his throat and slowed his pace. "I-I'm sorry for snapping-"

"It's quite alright," The Lannister girl assured him with a wide grin. He looked up and met her eyes, the small smile returning to his face. Lyra felt herself blush and she looked away. _Stupid! _She wasn't supposed to act like a young maiden seeing a handsome, gallant knight for the first time! She was supposed to be tough. Fierce. A _man_.

"Any idea where you want your quarters to be?" Jon asked conversationally after a moment of silence.

She pursed her lips. "Somewhere secluded, I suppose," She looked up at the Stark bastard from under her bangs. He quirked up an eyebrow. "I don't get along with most people," She admitted quietly.

"I understand," Snow nodded his head. "You can stay in Hardin's Tower, if you'd like. It's crumbling and rundown, but I'm the only one there. Well, besides Ghost, of course," He gave her a sideways glance, obviously amused, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I'm sure Ghost won't be a problem," Lyra held her chin high and began to climb the winding stairs, trying her best not to curse at the weight of the heavy trunk. _Just you watch; you're not going to need half of what you brought with you, stupid_. Only when she was halfway up the stairs did she notice that Jon wasn't following her. She turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I should get back before Thorne has my head," He explained sheepishly, running a hand through his wild curls. "I'll see you when we sup," With a nod, he turned on his heel and began to leave.

"Jon?" Lyra called softly after him. The Stark bastard looked at her from over his shoulder. "Thank you," She smiled at the boy. He grinned back before exiting the tower, with Ghost hot on his trail.

After meeting Jon Snow, all of Lyra's worries had vanished, as if by some queer sorcery. She didn't even notice the skip in her step as she made her way to her quarters. She donned a foolish grin plastered onto her face the whole way there. Maybe the Wall wouldn't be as bad as she thought.


	3. Chapter Two

Hello all! :)

Sorry if this chapter is suckish; I wrote it rather quickly. Also, I can't help but feel as if Jon and Tyrion are OOC. More Tyrion, though.

I'd like to thank my beta-reader, grangerissmart on tumblr! :D

Enjoy! Reviews are welcome, and I will love you forever if you review!

* * *

_**Jon**_

He made his way to the mess hall, holding his fur cloak tightly around his frame to evade the chilly night time air. Ghost trailed happily behind him, obviously excited for a hot meal. Of course, the direwolf wasn't permitted an entire meal to himself, but Jon would always sneak some scraps under the table.

Jon entered the mess hall, all eyes on him. Most of them quickly looked away, uninterested in the bastard boy. As he went to pick up his meal, he felt one pair of eyes burning into the back of his head. He shook off the feeling; stories of snarks and grumkins were beginning to make him feel paranoid.

Turning around, he scanned his eyes over the room, trying to figure out where to sit and sup. No one particularly favored the boy, and honestly, he didn't much like any of the others either. Most of them were frightened of Ghost, anyway. Jon was disappointed when he didn't spot Tyrion Lannister; he was the only one here that he'd consider a friend.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Stark bastard spotted the boy from earlier today sitting alone in the back of the room…_Elias_. The Western bastard averted his eyes a second later, his cheeks heating up under his long, messy bangs. Jon was slightly taken aback when he saw that the new recruit was already staring at him, although it explained his feeling of being watched. Snow shrugged and made his way to the young lad sitting at the empty table. Company was always welcome, he decided.

"Hello," Jon offered the boy a small smile. "May I?" He asked politely, nodding to the empty seat across from Elias.

"Yes, of course," The singer nodded, stabbing a piece of his meat with his fork. Jon noticed that Elias had barely touched his meal. Considering his thin frame, he _needed_ to eat. Of course, it wasn't any of Jon's business, although he felt compelled to watch over the child from Casterly Rock.

"How do you like Castle Black?" Snow asked casually, swallowing a forkful of the hot stew. Ghost lay down next to him, his chin on his paws, waiting for some scraps.

"It's cold," Elias joked, taking a swig of his spiced autumn ale. He fiddled with his sleeves which were too long for his skinny arms. "I haven't spoken to anybody except you and Thorne," He admitted quietly, pulling at a loose thread. He looked up and smiled weakly. "But I don't think I've been here long enough to form an opinion yet,"

"Let me know when you do," Jon replied softly, his lips quirking upward.

"I certainly-"

"Snow!" Tyrion Lannister called, cutting off Elias' response. The dwarf approached their table, a skin of wine in his hand. The Imp sat down next to Jon, already half drunk. After a moment, he realized that Jon wasn't alone. "Who is your friend, Lord Snow?"

Jon ignored the mocking title and cleared his throat. "Elias Hill. He just came here today from Casterly Rock,"

"Pleasure to meet you, Elias," Tyrion said politely, nodding towards the young lad.

"It is an honor, milord," Hill bowed his head, gnawing on his bottom lip. His nervousness was obvious, radiating off of him in waves.

Tyrion stared closely at the young lad, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "Look at me, boy," The Imp commanded after a moment of silence. Elias reluctantly obliged, lifting his head. He never looked the Lannister directly in the eyes. Tyrion seemed to have sobered up within the past few moments. The Lannister inquired, "You look familiar. Have we met before?" He leaned in closer to Elias. Jon silently watched the exchange, suddenly very intrigued.

"I don't believe so, milord," The Western bastard said quietly, tugging at his collar. "I _am _from Casterly Rock; perhaps you saw me when I sang at one of the feasts there," Elias boldly met the dwarf's mismatched eyes, his jaw clenching.

"Yes, perhaps," Tyrion relented, resting his chin on his hand. "So, what brings you to the Wall, Elias?" Jon noticed the small smirk on the Imp's face, partially covered by the skin as he took a sip of his wine.

"My master didn't approve of one of my songs," Hill told him, shrugging. "Said it was offensive and insulting. Gave me the choice between my tongue and the Wall," He rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "I'm not the first he sent away. Pretty soon all he'll be left with is the instruments and no one to play them," He swallowed a forkful of the stew, visibly relaxing.

Tyrion chuckled, a slow grin making its way onto his face. "I like this one," He said to Jon. Snow couldn't help but agree; there was something about Elias that was friendly and inviting. "Offensive and insulting, you say? I should quite like to hear this song of yours,"

Elias smirked in return, draining his goblet of ale. "Like I told Thorne; it'll have to be another time, milord. I've only just arrived after travelling for a month and a half. I do hope you can forgive me," He replied coolly, his voice smooth. "There's nothing more I would like than to entertain you, Lord Tyrion," He added, amused.

The son of Tywin laughed along with Hill. "Nothing would please me more, Elias," Jon couldn't help but chuckle at their easy banter. Just a moment ago, the Western lad seemed as if he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and never come out again. Now, he and Tyrion acted like the best of friends.

"I better go back to my quarters before it gets too cold for me to go out there," Tyrion said after conversing with the two boys for a short while. "Curse this bloody weather," He muttered, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Elias," He smiled at the singer.

Hill grinned and nodded. "Milord,"

"Snow," Lannister clapped Jon on the shoulder, grabbing his wine skin with the other hand. "I'll see you two on the morrow," He swung his stunted legs over the bench and waddled out into the cold air.

Jon looked at Elias quizzically while absentmindedly scratching Ghost behind his ears. He knew that there was more to the singer than he revealed, and the Stark bastard was determined to find out.

"What is it?" Elias demanded, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why are you staring at me?"

Jon chuckled and shook his head. "It's nothing," He said, feeding his direwolf the remains of his meal. "Finish your stew,"

The Western lad rolled his eyes and snorted. "Yes, Lord Snow,"

_At least he's comfortable enough to insult me_, Jon thought, amused.

* * *

Do do do UPDATE because I just remembered while I was in the shower.

I was wondering if you guys would be interested in a Robb/OC story or Theon/OC story. PM me or add it in your review!

Love you all!


	4. Chapter Three

I really got into my writing last night, so boom! Another update! :D

I can't help but feel as if Tyrion is constantly OOC in this. I don't know why. Maybe I'm paranoid. He's my favourite character, and I don't want to ruin him D:

Once again, thank you, grangerissmart, for beta-reading this!

I changed the rating from T to M because I said 'fucking' once (well, now twice), and I'm extremely paranoid. So there. Just to be on the safe side.

Also, dododo, update, I will be starting a Robb Stark/OC story, so be on the lookout for that!

Thank you, and enjoy!

* * *

_**Lyra**_

She hurriedly made her way out of the mess hall, throwing her hood over her head. Out of all the people in Westeros, she just _had _to run into her cousin. The gods were cruel, she decided. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to climb the Wall and jump off the damned thing. It would make things a lot easier for her, that was certain.

Tyrion had played along, but he was well aware that there was no Elias Hill. She could feel it. Seven hells, she could _see _it. That smug little smirk on his face and the glint in his eye, letting her know that she could never fool him. No doubt Jon knew now, maybe even the whole fucking Night's Watch!

Deep down, she knew that this idea would never work. Even if Tyrion _hadn't_ shown up, there was always the possibility of someone finding out. They could wonder why she had such a girlish voice- she had a whole story made up, of course; her master had had Elias castrated to keep his lovely singing voice. But what if one lad was smarter than the rest? Or, worse, someone could find her in the bath house; there would be no explanation for her clearly feminine body. There was always a chance of someone finding out, no matter how careful she was.

And it had happened. Her cousin, Tyrion Lannister, of all people, was there, in Castle Black, and he knew. And on her first bloody day here, gods damn it! He had recognized her, and he found out where Lyra Lannister had ventured off to. With just one raven, her father would barge through the gates and he'd drag her back to Casterly Rock.

"Good evening, Lyra," The voice leered from the shadows. She tensed for a moment, but continued to walk on. He just wanted satisfaction, that was all. And she had no mind to give it to him.

"Lyra, sweetling, there is nothing to be afraid of," His voice softened, pity seeping into it. Lyra ground her teeth, clenching and unclenching her fists. She didn't want pity, and certainly not from him. "I would just like to have a word with you, child,"

She whipped around to face the Imp, fire burning in her green eyes. "What if someone heard you? Are you positively _mad_?" She whispered harshly, not wanting anyone to hear. She couldn't see anybody around, but she didn't want to take any chances.

"I think I should be asking you the same question," He shot back, taking a step towards her. "What made you think that coming to the Wall would be a good idea?"

"I would _not_ let myself be sold like cattle or a common whore," Lyra retorted, keeping her voice low. She stared down at her cousin. "There is more that I am capable of than warming someone's bed at night and bearing their children,"

"I certainly agree," Tyrion told her, leaning against a skinny tree. "You're very bright for your age. Good with a sword, too, if I recall," He pulled a wine skin out from his cloak and took a sip. "You would have been safe if you had stayed-"

"I would have been _unhappy _if I had stayed,"

"Safety is just as important as happiness, is it not?" He replied wisely. "I'm sure that Lefford boy would be a fine husband,"

"I'd rather be killed than be forced into marriage," She sneered.

He ignored her comment. "I was impressed, I admit. Your story was quite convincing. Very amusing, I might add," He crossed his arms over his chest. "Your plan would have worked, you know," He gave her a small smirk. "If you hadn't run into me, of course,"

"Damn you, Imp," She spat, glaring at him.

He widened his eyes in feigned innocence. "Sweet child," He clucked his tongue. "I would be polite if I were you, considering I have a proposition to make,"

"Anything," Lyra said seriously, her anger evaporating. "Anything at all," She got down onto her knees so she was eye to eye with Tyrion. "Please," She breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

"Smart girl," Tyrion grinned crookedly. Lyra couldn't help but notice that his teeth had begun to chatter, and he pulled his cloak tighter around him. He took a few steps towards her.

"Spit it out before you freeze your arse off," She chastised playfully, taking her gloves off and offering them to the dwarf. The son of Tywin laughed, his body shivering violently. She smiled with him; he really wasn't so bad. In fact, he was probably one of her favourite cousins. However, because of her short temper, he pissed her off more often than not.

He gladly accepted the gloves, pulling them onto his tiny hands as quickly as he could manage. She couldn't help but let out a chuckle; the fingers on the gloves were much too long for the poor dwarf's hands. "I won't tell anyone about your current location, and I won't inform your soon-to-be brothers about your true identity, so long as you befriend and watch over the Stark boy,"

Lyra raised an eyebrow at him. "Why? What's so special about him?"

He put his hands on her shoulders. "He's a good man, an honorable one. He's brave and strong. It would be good to have him on your side, my flower," She blushed; no one had called her that for years. It was a stupid childhood nickname Tyrion and his brother, Ser Jaime, had given her. She outwardly berated it, but secretly, she loved it when someone called her that.

Lyra bit her lip and nodded her head, silently agreeing to his arrangement. She had already come to take a liking towards the Stark bastard.

"I will also send you letters to inform you just what you are missing," He added before she could say anything. "Only reply when I am back in King's Landing; I will let you know when I am there. Your letter could get into the wrong hands if I am on the Kingsroad,"

"King's Landing isn't the best place for secrecy, either," Lyra countered, getting back to her feet. "They have spies everywhere. The Queen, Littlefinger, the Spider-"

"And just how exactly would you know?"

She shrugged and studied her dirty fingernails. "I hear things," She smirked, a mischievous spark in her eye. "They're not the only ones with spies,"

"Naughty girl," Tyrion laughed darkly.

Lyra laughed and spun him around, gently shoving him towards the courtyard. "Go to your quarters, Lannister. You won't last much longer out here,"

"Yes, my lady," She could hear the smirk in his voice. He began to waddle away, the heels on his boots clicking on the stone ground.

"Tyrion?" She called quietly.

"Yes?" He looked at her from over his shoulder.

She smiled genuinely, her eyes lighting up. "Thank you," She whispered.

He returned the smile, the corners of his mismatched eyes crinkling. "You're welcome, dear cousin," He turned back around and made his way to the King's Tower, where his current quarters were located.

Lyra made her way back to her chambers at a leisurely pace, extremely relieved. It was only when she arrived at her room that she realized her hands were numb. She smiled ruefully to herself as she took off her chest bindings and changed into her nightshirt. After everything he's done for her, she'd let him keep the gloves.


	5. Chapter Four

Hullo! Sorry for not posting for a short while; I was finishing up work, it was my birthday, etc. Plus, I started my Robb Stark/OC story. Should be uploaded really soon!

Thanks to Kim for the beta! You rock!

So, enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated!

* * *

_**Jon**_

"Morning, Snow," Elias greeted him, sitting down next to Jon. The Stark bastard barely acknowledged his presence, more focused on the snowy lands ahead of him. The top of the Wall was always a great place to think; Jon enjoyed the isolation of it. "We missed you when we broke our fast," Hill took a sip of his warm spiced wine.

Jon finally tore his gaze away from the view in front of him and raised an eyebrow at the boy. "We?" His breath formed a small white cloud in the cold air.

"Tyrion and I," He elaborated, shrinking into his oversized cloak. Sheepishly, he offered Jon his skin of wine. Snow accepted and took a swig. "Are you alright? It's not like you to miss a meal," Elias reached over and scratched Ghost behind his ears.

Snow shrugged, leaning in closer to the small fire. "I just wanted to be alone for a little while, that's all," He looked at Elias from the corner of his eye. "This is a good place for thinking," His lips curved into a small smile. "You don't have to worry about me,"

Elias nodded, biting his bottom lip. "Well, Snow, we better get down to the training yard before Thorne throws us off the Wall," He smiled at Jon as he stood up and gave Ghost one last pat on the head. He snatched the wine skin back from the Stark bastard and finished it in one long swig.

The pair made their way down to the training yard at a brisk pace, not wanting to be late for the morning session. The direwolf followed the two lads, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. On the way, Jon noticed Elias feed Ghost a few pieces of bacon he must have smuggled from the mess hall.

"_Shit_," Elias breathed, chewing the inside of his cheek. The two were late. Everyone had already started to spar, and by the looks of it, Ser Alliser was already picking on a couple of them.

The two bastards snuck into the armory to avoid being seen by Thorne. Ghost had ventured into the forest to hunt, making it much easier to go unnoticed. They quickly slipped into their armour and grabbed their practice swords, rushing out into the courtyard. The pair picked the spot furthest away from the old Crow, not wanting to face Ser Alliser's wrath.

"Do you even know how to wield a sword?" Jon teased. He got into his stance, tightly gripping the hilt of the sword. There was a challenging note in his voice, one which Hill clearly noticed.

"Of _course_ I know how to wield a sword," Elias retorted, narrowing his eyes. He took a swing at Jon, which Snow easily blocked, pushing it to the side with his own sword. While Hill was momentarily distracted, Jon hit Elias in the shoulder. The Western bastard grunted and took a step back, regaining his footing. Jon took another swing at him, this time at his ribs. The singer quickly ducked and rolled out of the way, hitting the Stark bastard in the ankle. Jon cursed and ignored the throbbing pain, instead clashing swords with Elias when the singer jumped back up. Snow would have laughed if the situation had not been so serious; Elias looked rather droll, red faced, with his teeth bared and freckled nose scrunched up.

Jon finally pulled out of the lock, pushing Elias backwards. Hill bumped into another recruit, the singer's face turning a bright red. "I-I'm so sorry-" The other boy ignored his apology and pushed Elias back towards Snow, who was now laughing at his friend. "It's not funny!" Elias squeaked, knocking him down and hitting Jon repeatedly in the side with his sword, which only made him laugh harder.

Before either of them knew what was happening, Ser Alliser Thorne had appeared out of nowhere, shouting obscenities at the pair. "Stop this madness!" He yelled, wrenching the sword from Elias' gloved hands. "Now is not the time for playing around like children, _bastards_," He sneered, throwing the sword to the ground. Jon quickly stopped laughing, his grey eyes widening.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Commander Mormont's voice boomed as he made his way to the center of the circle that had formed around Jon, Elias and Thorne. _Gods be good_, Jon thought frantically. By Jeor Mormont's side was Tyrion Lannister, who shot the bastards a sympathetic look.

"W-we just got into a quarrel, that's all," Elias licked his lips nervously. "Really, i-it was nothing, my lord,"

Jon nodded wildly in agreement, pushing himself from off the ground. "I shouldn't have offended him, my lord," His words were rushed, wanting to get it over with. He didn't like all this unwanted attention. "I apologize, to all of you,"

"As do I," Elias piped up, wringing his hands together. "For causing all this commotion,"

The entire courtyard was quiet, all eyes on them. The silence was deafening, and Jon wished he was anywhere but there. Finally, the loudmouthed Lannister broke the silence. "Mormont, let them be!" Tyrion waved his hand dismissively. "They are not more than children. It is what they do," _I am a man grown_, Jon thought grumpily.

The Lord Commander frowned, scrutinizing the pair. "Very well. Just make sure it doesn't happen again,"

"Yes, my lord," Jon and Elias chorused.

"Good," The Old Bear looked around the courtyard. "Practice is over. Go find men of the Watch; I am certain there is some work to be done," He spun on his heel and made his way towards the Lord Commander's tower, his cape billowing behind him. Thorne gave the bastards dirty looks, before following Mormont. The courtyard began to clear out as the recruits piled into the armoury.

Snow turned to the dwarf. "Thank you, my lord," Jon said gratefully, bowing his head respectfully. Elias murmured his thanks, his eyes cast downward.

"Jon, I thought we were past formalities," Tyrion smirked. "I call you by your given name all the time. Certainly you may call me Tyrion," His eyes flickered to the singer. "You, as well, Elias," The Imp shrugged. "And there is no need to thank me. I hardly did anything noble. Now, I suggest following Commander Mormont's orders before you two get into any more trouble," He nodded at the pair, then made his way towards his chambers in the King's Tower.

Elias sullenly began to walk towards the armoury, leaving Jon behind. The Stark bastard sighed and jogged to catch up with his friend. "Elias, I'm very sorry," He said sincerely, falling into step with the singer. "I never meant to get you in trouble, and I shouldn't have laughed at you,"

"It's fine, Jon," Hill lightened up a little. "I suppose I should apologize for almost beating you bloody," He added, with a small smirk on his face. Jon laughed and clapped Elias on the shoulder, the pair strolling into the armoury.

"Perhaps you'll get the chance one day, Elias."


	6. Chapter Five

Hi! :D Before I start, I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who faved/followed/reviewed this! :D Also, extra thanks to Leanna for wishing me happy belated birthday! :D Thank you everyone! I love you all!

Okay so OBVIOUSLY I don't own Rains of Castamere (wah).

This chapter may seem kind of sunshine and rainbows but shit's gonna go down in the next couple of chapters.

Thanks to Kim for the beta!

Enjoy! Mwah!

* * *

_**Lyra**_

"You know, I think Tyrion had the right idea," She told Jon sheepishly, slipping out of her armour. Jon had told her of the little talk he had had with Tyrion Lannister a few days ago. She didn't want to upset her newfound friend, although she couldn't help but agree with her cousin. People often overlooked the dwarf, but behind those mismatched eyes, he was very clever. He was quite possibly the smartest man she knew, and he constantly gave her advice and knowledge that made her forever in his debt. He wouldn't want anything from her- he would deem it unnecessary- but she still felt as if she owed him _something_. "Maybe you should help the other boys with their fighting skills. You're the best one here, even though it's not much of a contest; I doubt most of them held a sword before they came here," She bit the inside of her cheek, avoiding Jon Snow's gaze. It had been a day since Ser Alliser Thorne got the pair in trouble, and now Lyra wanted to stay on the knight's good side. She figured that helping the boys would take some work off his shoulders, and he would be appreciative of their help.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Snow admitted. Lyra finally looked at him, all of her attention focused on Jon. She gave him a look, urging him to continue. "Where'd _you _learn to fight?" The Stark bastard asked her boldly. She was slightly taken aback, and her surprise must have been evident on her face. Jon shrugged, his voice lowering. "You're not half bad, but I'm wondering where- or _why_- a singer would learn to fight,"

Lyra slid her practice sword into the slot on the rack, trying to think of an answer to his inquiry. She internally cursed herself; how could she have been so stupid to miss that part in her story? Surely, if Elias was a bastard from the dangerous alleys of King's Landing, he wouldn't question her. But Casterly Rock was relatively safe, and he was a singer, without reason to learn the art of sword fighting.

"My brother was a squire to one of the lesser lords," She finally told him. "He would practice with me whenever he dropped by," The Lannister ran her fingers through her hair. "He said I should always be prepared to defend myself. He gave me a dagger for my twelfth name day, and a longsword before I left for the Wall," Her story wasn't entirely untrue; her brother _was _a knight, and he _was _the one who gave her the dagger. However, it was the castle's master-of-arms who taught her how to fight, and her longsword was stolen from her father's collection the night she left. He had many, so she figured he wouldn't miss one.

"I could help you, if you want," Lyra babbled, bending down to fix the ties on her boots. "With the other recruits, I mean. You said it yourself; I'm not half bad," She stood up and opened the armoury door, a cold gust of wind slapping her in the face.

Snow shrugged again, donning his cloak. "You're welcome to," He said nothing more. Lyra regretted ever talking to him about it. The Lannister took her own cloak and they made their way outside, a slightly uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between the two.

Ghost met up with them near Hardin's Tower, his muzzle covered with blood. Jon gave him a quick pat on the head and went into the tower, wanting to escape the chilly air. Lyra knelt down and kissed the direwolf on the head before following the Stark bastard inside.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," She jogged to catch up to Snow. The direwolf raced with her, his reddened tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. "It was only a suggestion, anyway. You don't have to listen to me," She didn't bother letting him respond; she gave Ghost one final pat on the head and started toward her chambers. "I'll see you went we sup," She raced to her room, her face flushing. She would apologize to him when they supped, she decided. She had promised Tyrion that she would befriend the bastard, and she intended to keep that promise.

Just as she began to wash her face, Lyra heard a loud knocking at her door. "One moment!" She quickly washed the grime and sweat off, grabbing a small hand cloth next to her. She made her way to the door, wiping her face on the way. She unlocked the door and swung it open, revealing none other than her beloved cousin. She tossed the towel aside and quirked her eyebrow at the dwarf. "What is it?" The Lannister girl asked impatiently, not enjoying the large smirk on his face one bit.

"Bring your harp to the mess hall tonight, dear cousin," The Imp replied, glee evident in his voice, with one last look, he left Lyra standing at the door, gaping like a fish.

She regained her composure before she lost sight of the son of Tywin. "Tyrion!" She called after him. He looked at her over his shoulder. "How did you know I had my harp?"

He widened his mismatched eyes, feigning innocence. "Surely a singer doesn't go anywhere without his harp."

* * *

She entered the mess hall, desperately trying not to shake. She hid her small harp under her cloak, hoping Tyrion would forget, and no one would notice. It wasn't as if she was _bad_…she just didn't enjoy performing; Lyra supposed she would have to get used to singing for her fellow Night's Watch brothers.

The girl took her regular seat next to Jon Snow, who was busy feeding Ghost a piece of whatever meat the cook, Hobb, had cooked for them. Lyra wasn't hungry; her stomach was flipping, her palms sweating, her mind racing. Absentmindedly, she bit her lip until she tasted blood.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked, interrupting her thoughts. He stared at her with serious grey eyes.

"I-I'm fine," She lied, pulling at the collar of her large tunic. "I'm just not hungry, that's all,"

"You might want to take off your cloak," Snow suggested, ripping off a piece from his bread roll. "You're starting to sweat like a pig," She caught the small smile on his lips before he took a sip of his ale.

"Fine," She huffed, slamming her harp down on the table. The Lannister girl slipped out of her cloak and draped it over the empty part of the bench next to her.

"Is the bastard gonna sing for us?" One of the boys- who she had learnt was named Rast- hooted from across the hall. "He looks like a pretty whore- does he sound like one?" The other two boys at his table laughed with him.

"Piss off," Lyra spat, her green eyes on fire. Ghost growled with her, baring his sharp teeth. Rast glared at her one more time before turning around and ignoring the girl.

"_Are _you going to sing?" Jon inquired, scrutinizing her.

"Tyrion wanted me to," Lyra grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Although I don't see him here...perhaps I won't have to in the end," She said hopefully, her mood visibly brightening.

"You can't always get what you want, Elias," Her cousin said obnoxiously from behind her, giving her back a pat. She felt herself scowl, but she put on a fake smile for the dwarf. "Now, what shall you sing for me?"

"Whatever you want me to, my lord," Lyra replied, her voice as smooth as the silks she used to wear. She heard Rast and his friends snickering, but she ignored them. Instead, she began to tune her harp. Out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw Jon Snow watching her intently. She tried to keep her cheeks from turning as red as Ghost's eyes.

"Surprise me," Tyrion smirked, sitting down across from Jon and Lyra. "I would give you coin, but I doubt you'd have any use for it here," She lifted her head, meeting his mismatched eyes. They bored into hers, making her feel slightly nauseated. "But, a Lannister always pays his debts. I will repay you for your song, one day,"

"That is not necessary, Lord Tyrion," She said evenly. Taking a deep breath, she plucked a string on the harp, the note echoing through the hall. All at once, her lessons her Septa gave her came rushing back to her. She remembered every note and every word to any and all the songs Septa Annora and Lyra's mother taught her. Every eye was on her, but that did not matter anymore. The rest of the room faded away, and the Lannister only saw her cousin. She opened her mouth and began to sing;

"_And who are you, the proud lord said,_

_that I must bow so low?_

_Only a cat of a different coat, _

_that's all the truth I know. _

_In a coat of gold, or a coat of red, _

_a lion still has claws. _

_And mine are long and sharp, my lord,_

_as long and sharp as yours. _

_And so he spoke, and so he spoke,_

_that lord of Castamere._

_But now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

_with no one there to hear._

_Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

_and not a soul to hear._"

The hall was deadly quiet, the silence deafening to her ears. After what seemed like ages, Tyrion slowly began to applaud. The rest of the Night's Watchmen joined in and Lyra released the breath she didn't realize she was holding. She looked over to Jon and saw him smiling at her, although there was something strange in his eyes.

"Thank you, Elias," The Imp said sincerely. "Your performance was well worth the wait. You are a fine singer, indeed. Your master would be proud of you,"

Lyra grinned toothily. "My lord, if he was, he wouldn't have sent me away."


	7. Chapter Six

Okay guys, so most of my author's note is going to be at the end, since I don't want to spoil the chapter for you guys.

Here, I just want to say thanks to everyone who subscribed/faved/reviewed! I love you all!

Thanks to Kim for the beta!

And sorry there's a lot of cussing in this...but hey, it's what 19 year old boys do, right? ;)

Enjoy!

Oh and this chapter, basically everything is mine, I guess. Since this one doesn't take place at the Wall, everyone presented here is mine. Oh wait except that mention of Tywin and the Cleganes. I don't own them.

* * *

**_Two weeks before_**

**_Jonah_**

****The boy dashed to the rookery, everything going by in a flurry. He couldn't see, he couldn't think. The only thing he felt was his legs aching from the running, the sprinting, the _flying…_was he flying? No, he couldn't be. He heard the distinctive _thump _whenever one of his feet hit the cold stone ground. And if he could fly, he'd fly across Westeros. Away from here. He'd fly to the Wall, he'd tell her everything himself, he'd live out the rest of his days with her.

_Lyra._

It was the only thought that passed through Jonah Magos' mind, the only word he _remembered_. It was the reason he kept running, not caring that he couldn't breathe, that he would be dead any minute. She was his strength; he would keep fighting- for _her_- and he would be damned if the last thing he did wasn't for her.

He burst into the rookery, his lungs on fire. Clumsily, he locked the door behind him. He heard his heart pounding in his ears as he made his way to the table. He silently thanked the gods that the maester wasn't there. The boy's hands were shaking, making it almost impossible to grab one of the thin parchment sheets. Even before he wrote the first word in his letter, he already managed to knock half of the ink bottle onto the letter. "Fuck," He heard himself mumble, his tongue turning to lead in his mouth. He didn't bother starting over- there was no _time_. That's all that mattered anymore. _Time_.

_Lee_, he scrawled the nickname messily. _Why in the Seven Hells did you have to go?! Everything's a mess here…you really did it this time, kid. _Jonah was three years senior to sixteen-year-old Lyra Lannister. He always teased her by calling her 'kid', which annoyed her to no end. _Your father came home from the hunt right when he heard about your death, your escape, whatever the fuck he thought it was. He sent out all his men to look for you all around Casterly Rock and beyond- they came back a few days later, since they didn't find a body. Your pa is furious, kid- he's torturing and killing innocent people, trying to find out _something _about you. He's offering a shitload of money for anyone who talks and speaks true. Your betrothed, Lord what's-his-face, is bawling like a little babe; I always knew it was easy to make him squeal like a maiden. You're tougher than him, for gods' sakes. _

Jonah felt his breath catch in his throat when he heard the hammering at the door. Every curse in every language he knew managed to escape his lips. It was only then, as he stared at the letter, did he notice he was crying. The teardrops fell onto the parchment paper and stained it, blurring some of his words.

_ Rumor is that Tywin is going to get involved. Following him, of course, will be those damned Cleganes. But I won't talk. I promise you, I won't say a word, no matter how much we need the money. Your safety and your life mean more to me than mine own, kid. _Jonah felt a sob rack through his body. He heard the knocking get louder, but he paid no heed. _I guess I only have one chance to say this, considering I'm a dead man and you're thousands of leagues away. Lee, I love you. I'm _in _love with you. I always thought- no, I _know _that I'd be a better husband to you than him. I'm sorry I can't say this in person. But I know you'll be safe up North. _

"Open up, in the name of Lord Ouen Lannister!" One of the knights called from the other side of the door. Judging from the quick accession in volume, Jonah could only guess that they began to use a battering ram.

_Stay strong for me, Lee. I know you can. You're capable of so much. _

"You have ten seconds to open the door before we knock the bloody thing down,"

_I'll see your baby sister soon, Lee. I'll tell her how brave you are._

"-nine-"

_I bet she would have been just like you. _

"-eight-"

_I love you._

"-seven-"

_Forever yours-_

"-seven-"

_Jonah_.

"-six-"

Jonah quickly lit a candle and melted the wax onto the letter. He pulled his stamp out of the pocket of his breeches and stamped his sigil onto the wax- the swimming turtle. His house wasn't noble, yet they still had a sigil. His father always that they had more honor than a noble house, so they deserved a sigil of their own. Jonah had never argued; he always enjoyed seeing the turtle on his knitted tunics and leather jerkins his mother had often made for him.

"-five-"

As fast as lightning, he opened the raven's cage and grabbed one of them. He struggled to tie the letter to the bird's leg, his hands still shaking.

"-four-"

Finally, he successfully tied it around the raven's thin leg. Luckily for Jonah, the window was already wide open.

"-three-"

Jonah released the bird and watched with grim satisfaction as it flew away. It was what he needed to do. He would die for it, surely, but he couldn't let Lyra down. The night before she left, he had promised her that he would do all that was possible to ensure her safety and well-being. He was just a low-born stable boy; what else could he do but help his best friend? He couldn't gather armies and pick Lord Lefford out of his keep. He couldn't offer Lyra anymore than his love.

"-two-"

The boy sighed and slipped the stamp back into his pocket. His blue eyes darted around the room as he wiped his clammy palms on his jerkin. A wild idea popped into his head. He reopened the cage and let all the ravens fly out the window. He was going to die anyway; what did it matter what he did in his last moment? _Hopefully that'll hold them off longer for you, kid_. Without thinking, he leapt behind one of the many book cases. He sunk down the floor and held his breath, waiting for the inevitable.

"-_one_! We are entering this room, and there is nothing that can stop us," With one more pound on the door, the knights rammed the door down, the noise deafening to Jonah. The boy's eyes went in and out of focus as he heard the slow, deliberate steps the soldiers took.

"There's no one here, Ser Ryall," His voice sounded young- he must have been a squire.

"There _has _to be," The leader- Ser Ryall- growled. "How else could the door have been locked? Just keep looking. This place isn't that big. We'll find him eventually," Their footsteps sounded distant as they spread out. _Just fucking kill me already_, Jonah thought angrily, clenching and unclenching his fists.

As he heard some light steps approaching, his hand instantly gripped the dagger at his hip. _No, you came here to die. If you do anything else, you and Lyra will get in more shit as it is_. The young knight was mumbling some words to himself. Jonah strained his ears to listen, but the words were incoherent.

"What's this-?" The young knight muttered, peeking around the edge of the bookshelf. His eyes widened as he spotted the stableboy, his gloved hand going to wrap around the hilt of his longsword. Jonah doubted the young lad could beat him in a fight- he couldn't have been more than fifteen, and Magos had the advantage of height.

Before he realized what he was doing, Jonah whipped around, as silent and deadly as a lion about to kill his prey, and threw the dagger at the other boy. It landed right in his throat, blood oozing out in steady pumps. The knight gurgled and fell to the floor with a loud crash, thanks to his heavy armour. The stableboy inwardly cursed and pulled the now-bloody dagger out of the lad's throat. Shrugging, he also pulled the longsword out from the boy's scabbard. It was a good piece of steel; he couldn't let it go to waste.

_What the fuck do you think you're doing?! _He thought frantically to himself as he rolled under the nearest table, the one where he had spilled the ink. Drops of the black liquid still dripped onto the floor in front of him, reminding Magos of blood. _Shit_. Realization dawned on him. That was the first man he'd ever killed- if you could even call the knight a man. He had killed a young lad who had only begun to live.

Boldly, he crawled a few inches out from under the table to see exactly who he was dealing with. Jonah counted three knights and two squires- he figured he must have killed the third. They were all hovering over the dead lad's body, gaping like fish out of water. The stableboy figured he could sneak out of the room if he was quiet enough…

"Ser Ryall!" The squire from before shouted, pointing in Jonah's general direction. "I saw something-"

"Then go see what it is," Ryall seethed, shoving the boy forward. The young lad fell to the floor, wincing as the armor on his legs hit his knees. With the armor weighing him down, it must have been too much of an effort to stand up, so he kept on crawling.

The squire reached the table, out of breath. Magos had to hold back a chuckle for the poor soul. The lad looked up and met Jonas' piercing blue eyes with his own, soon meeting the same fate as his friend. Jonah's catlike reflexes had helped him duck from the squire's slash at him, and the stableboy had managed to dart forward and slice the lad's throat.

"Get him!" Ser Ryall yelled, charging towards Magos. Jonah shoved the tainted dagger back into the small scabbard on his hip and switched the longsword to his sword hand. At the last second, he managed to block a blow from the older man. The boy rolled to the side as the knight stabbed at him, his longsword getting stuck in the wooden floorboards.

Magos sprinted towards the door, only to be cut off by one of the other knights. He couldn't have been much older than Jonah himself, but he was easier to cut down. With quick movements, the stableboy planted the longsword into the man's thigh, where the armour was weak, then finished him with a slice at the throat.

The remaining squire charged at Jonah in a mad attempt to get vengeance for his mentor's death. Magos couldn't help but smirk as he caught the squire's wrist, knocked him to the ground and twisted his neck with a sickening _crack_. He caught sight of the lad's bow and arrow quiver and pulled them off of him. Before the tall knight knew what was coming, he had an arrow in his eye.

Jonah's eyes darted around the room, his heart beating loudly in his chest. He had just _murdered _five people. Sliced through them and shot them as if they were nothing more than training dummies.

_Five_…but where was-

An enormous, unbearable amount of pain ripped through the stableboy. He saw drops of his blood fly and land in random spots on the floor, on the walls, on his clothing. Every time he breathed, searing pain shot through him. He cried out wordlessly for Lyra, for his mother, his father, _anyone_…

"Before you die," The voice growled in his ear. _Ryall_. "I suppose I _should _thank you for giving my men quick deaths," Jonah's vision faded from black to white, black to white, but he could _see _the knight's mocking grin floating in front of him. Magos screamed loudly as the sword twisted in his belly. He coughed and spat up blood, lurching forward.

He expected to fall onto the knight, but no, he had been behind him the whole time. He fell onto the hard wooden floor, his hands and face now coated with his own blood, and the blood of the chivalry.

"But no lowborn _stableboy_ deserves my thanks," Ser Ryall spat on the back of Jonah's neck. Magos screeched in agony as the knight kicked him hard in the side.

"I don't want your bloody gratitude," Jonah managed to wheeze out, his veins on fire. "You should be dying instead of me," He coughed again, more blood splattering on the floor.

"That may be so," The knight admitted, kicking Jonah once more. "But what is done cannot be undone," With one more kick, seemingly oblivious to the boy's screams, Ryall spun on his heel and exited the rookery, leaving Magos to die.

"Lyra," Jonah whispered. Every moment seemed like years to him. He pictured her flowing golden locks, bright green eyes, and that dazzling smile of hers. He saw her face in front of him; she was laughing, _mocking _him. "I hope this was worth it, my sweet lioness." 

* * *

Okay, I'm back! I know that one was around almost double of an average chapter, but I thought Jonah deserved some of the limelight. He's such a cutie! And he's my awkward turtle ehehe.

Fun fact: I was going to make him a bastard, Jonah Hill, but then I remembered the actor LOL.

I know you guys probably HATE me for killing of such a cutie pie of a character so soon, but it kind of had to be done. I was actually just going to let him die without a fight, but as someone once said, "Don't die with a clean sword..." :3 So, an epic battle ensues. Another reason as to why the chapter is so long.

Also, just to add to the sadness, Lyra's baby sister (as mentioned by Jonah in the letter) was stillborn, when Lyra was eight.

Am I missing anything? I guess it is a rather quick update, but I was just really inspired for Jonah yesterday. Plus, I didn't really have any canon boundaries, so I was really free to write anything I wanted.

So, thanks again! Drop some reviews, my lovelies! :D


	8. Chapter Seven

Because a bit of angst and drama are always needed!

I know, Jon's sort of a stupid dick in the beginning, but hey, not everyone can be perfect. And action is always fun.

More author's note will be at the bottom!

Enjoy! :*

* * *

**_Jon_**

Elias rushed out of the hall right after his song. He threw his hood on his head and grabbed his harp, leaving their table as quickly as he could. He ignored Tyrion and Jon's calls, instead pushing past everyone and stepping out into the cold night time air. Jon Snow knew that there was something wrong with him tonight. It had shown in his grey eyes- perhaps that's why Elias left so suddenly.

However, Jon couldn't help but feel as if the singer was hiding something. He was oddly distant this evening, and he was rather jumpy. Usually, if Rast and his gang would make comments about him, Elias would just ignore it and continue to talk to Jon and Tyrion. But tonight, the Western bastard had yelled at Rast and his companions.

"Do you think there's something wrong with Elias?" The Stark bastard asked the dwarf. Ghost curled up next to his master's feet and put his head on his paws, begging for some of Jon's meal.

"There's something wrong with all of us, isn't there?" Lannister replied cryptically. He drained his mug of ale and took the goblet Elias had left behind. "His song was lovely," Tyrion said, almost to himself. He began to whistle the tune, running his finger around the rim of the goblet. _The Rains of Castamere_…Snow thought to himself, absentmindedly stabbing his stew with his fork. _The Rains of Castamere…bloody hell_. The bastard sprung out of his seat and sprinted out of the mess hall, completely forgetting about his meal.

He easily caught up to Elias with his long legs. Jon spun him around and pinned him against the nearest tree. Snow fingered the hilt of his dagger with his free hand and unsheathed it, keeping it at his side. "How did you know The Rains of Castamere?" Jon growled, staring the younger lad down. Under Snow's grip, Hill was trembling violently. Jon saw the genuine fear in the boy's green eyes. "Tell me," He ordered, pressing his arm harder against Elias' shoulders. The singer tried to loosen Jon's grip on him, but the Stark bastard wouldn't budge. "Answer me, Elias," Grey eyes bored into green.

Before Jon could blink, Elias kneed him in the groin, effectively breaking out of the hold. While Snow was doubled over in pain, Hill grabbed the dagger from Jon's hand and pointed it at his throat. "I could kill you right now," Elias threatened, an angry scowl making its way onto his clean-shaven face. He gave Jon a small cut on his cheek before jumping backward. "_Don't_ ever touch me again," The singer said slowly, much calmer this time. He threw the dagger to the ground, the weapon planting itself upwards. "You seem to forget I am a singer from Casterly Rock, Lord Snow. Everyone knows that Casterly Rock is the lion's den. The Lannisters do not let us forget their victories," The tension in the air was so thick, Jon wished Elias had cut that instead of his cheek. Hill stared at Snow for one more moment before turning on his heel and stalking off. _If those White Walkers don't kill me first, than Elias sure as hell will._

* * *

The next day, after he broke his fast, Jon passed by Elias' chambers. He knocked quietly on the door, but there was no answer. Sighing, he climbed down the winding staircase and made his way to the courtyard. If Ser Alliser caught him being late one more time…

Snow entered the armoury and donned his practice armour. He grabbed a sword from the rack and made his way into the snowy courtyard. He looked around and was surprised to see that he was the only one there. He figured it was because this morn, he didn't have to wait up for a certain singer. The courtyard was empty except for him and an angry looking Elias, who was shooting arrows at a target with deadly accuracy. Jon flinched when an arrow hit the center of the target, making a loud _thwack_.

"Are you going to stand there all day, Lord Snow?" The singer gritted through his teeth as he fiddled with the bow string. "Surely you came to the practice yard for a reason?" He looked at Jon over his shoulder and nodded towards the wooden sword in the older boy's hand.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I upset you last night-"

"I know, I know!" Hill snapped, stringing an arrow. "And I know you didn't mean it. You weren't going to hurt me. But still, Snow, you didn't have to physically _attack_ me,"

"I know, Elias, and I'm truly sorry,"

This time, his aim was off and the arrow landed in a pile of hay next to the target. He sighed dramatically. "Can't I just stay mad at you? At least for this practice session. Anger helps me shoot better,"

"Actually, I was thinking of something else," Jon pulled the arrows out of the target. Hill quirked an eyebrow up at him, urging him to continue. "We'll help out the other boys today. You and Tyrion were right,"

A slow grin took place on Elias' face. "Excellent. I love hearing that I'm right."

* * *

The two silently made their way up Wall, an unspoken agreement hanging in the air. Jon wasn't exactly sure just what Elias wanted from him, but he already thought of the young lad from Casterly Rock as a younger brother, and he would try is hardest to protect him. He knew that Hill appreciated the advice during the practice session today, and hopefully he saw Jon as a brother, as well. Snow could only hope that they would continue their playful banter instead of the pointless arguing. They would soon take their vows, and they would be sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. They had to look out for each other.

Jon and Elias arrived at one of the many small stations along the top of the huge ancient structure, the cold winds chilling them to the bone. They saw none other than Tyrion Lannister, living out his dream by pissing off the edge of the Wall. Hill chuckled, and Snow nudged him gently in the ribs. Tyrion laced up his breeches and turned around at the sound of the quiet laughter. Jon and Elias both had smirks on their faces as the dwarf turned around and waddled over to the pair.

The Stark bastard spoke first. "I'm sorry to see you leave, Lannister," His words were true, and he was surprised that he had come to grow so fond of a lion.

Tyrion hesitated for a few moments, which was rare; the Imp always had some snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. "It's either me or this cold, and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere," He pulled his cloak tighter around himself.

"Will you stop at Winterfell on your way South?" Jon asked anxiously as he nervously wrung his gloved hands.

Lannister gave a sharp nod of his head. "I expect I will," His teeth had began to chatter. "Gods know there aren't many feather beds between here and King's Landing,"

Snow's grey eyes flickered to Elias, who was standing a few paces away, not wanting to intrude on Jon and Tyrion's conversation. "If you see my brother Bran…tell him I miss him. Tell him…I'd visit, if I could,"

"Of course," Tyrion replied, almost too quickly. His mismatched eyes were watching the young Western lad sitting by the fire pit.

"He'll never walk again," Jon said to no one in particular.

"If you're going to be a cripple," The dwarf smiled almost sadly, "Better to be a rich cripple," He took a couple paces towards Jon and offered his small hand. "Take care, Snow,"

"I will, my lord," The Northerner promised, firmly shaking hands with Lannister. The dwarf made his way to Elias and sat down next to him.

"I'll see you on the morrow, Snow," Hill said quietly. His green eyes were full of sorrow, his expression mournful. Jon nodded and left the pair to their conversation. A small part of him couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about. They weren't hiding anything from him…were they?

* * *

**_Lyra_**

"I want you to take care of yourself and the Snow boy," Tyrion told her, grabbing her hand in his. "I care about you, Lyra. I don't want to see you getting hurt,"

"I'll be fine," She bit her lip to hold back the wave of tears that threatened to escape. She had never been terribly close to any of her cousins, but she hated to see Tyrion leave so soon. She wished he would always be with her, to offer her advice when she needed it, or put a smile on her face when she was feeling blue. She regretted her being distant from her cousins and causing a strain in their relationship. "I'll miss you, cousin," A tear slipped down her cheek. He smiled softly and reached up to wipe it away. "Thank you," She whispered, letting the tears fall freely now. It was so cold; she could have sworn that the damned things would freeze on her face. "Thank you for everything," She wrapped him in a tight hug for what she knew would be the last time.

* * *

Okay hi guys! I'm back!

Alright, so for starters, I just want to say thanks to everyone who reads/faves/reviews/subscribes! It really means a lot to know that people out there like my writing, and it just makes me want to write more! C:

Thanks to Kim for the beta!

I know, you guys hate me for making Tyrion leave so soon, but it had to be done *sigh* On the bright side, Sam should be coming in soon! *thumbs up* And yeah, super short Lyra input at the end, but I didn't really want to waste time next chapter for something as short as this.

Also, there is a poll on my page for favourite OC! So go and vote! :D

And, by the way, I'm going away this Friday, and I'll be gone for...11 days, I think? So no updates for a little bit D: I will definitely write while I am away (on the plane and such) so you will probably have a chapter or two right when I get back!

I think that's it, so bye! Thanks again! And reviews would be very much appreciated! :D


	9. Chapter Eight

You guys! Aaaaaaaah!

I'm so sorry oh my gosh!

I wrote a couple chapters while I was gone, and I was going to post them on Wednesday when I came back, but my Internet crashed, and the company made no move whatsoever to fix it! So only today did my brother fix it, and thank the Seven for him!

Here's one super long one...I'll post the second in a matter of minutes.

Once again, really sorry!

Also, I'll be closing the 'favourite OC' poll tomorrow night, so go and vote! :D

Thanks for reading/faving/subscribing and reviewing! Love you guys!

Enjoy!

* * *

**_Lyra_**

The loud knocking at the door woke her up with a start. The sunlight streamed through her windows, making her groan and cover her face with her pillow. "Elias, you're not going to make it in time to break your fast!" Jon Snow warned from the other side of the door.

Lyra twirled a piece of hair around her finger. She cursed when she saw that the brown dye was fading, the signature Lannister gold taking its place. "I'll just see you in the training yard," She hollered back, rolling out of bed. "Ghost can have my meal," She opened her trunk and searched inside for the large container of dye she had packed.

"I'm sure he's very grateful," Lyra could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'll see you then," The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed in the hall and in her ears.

She quickly washed her hair in the small basin at the corner of her chambers. Frowning, the Lannister scooped up some of the gelatinous substance with her fingers. She had never liked dyeing her hair, but she had no choice; she couldn't bring herself to shave her head, and wigs didn't look terribly real.

The girl double checked in the mirror and decided that she'd done her job well enough. If anything, she could throw her hood over her head. Lyra bound her chest and donned her heavy black clothing. She thought that the scowl would become a permanent feature on her visage. Why in the seven hells did she have to choose the _Wall_ of all places? She could have crossed the Narrow Sea and lived out her days in the warm, beautiful Free Cities. _Or you could have been a good daughter and married the Lefford boy_. "Not a chance," She muttered to herself as she pinned her cloak to her shoulders. Lyra trudged out into the snow, the cold air nipping at her cheeks and sinking into her bones.

Throughout the day, she felt as if a raincloud was hanging above her head. During practice, she found herself complaining to Jon about the tiniest of things, and it was hard for her to concentrate. She was also cursing more than usual, which got her in some unwanted trouble with Ser Alliser Thorne.

"Are you alright? You're hardly acting like yourself," Jon frowned as he hung up his training armour. They walked out of the armoury and headed towards Hardin's Tower. They had established a daily routine: Jon would wait outside Lyra's chambers, they would break their fast together, practice their sword fighting, walk back to their rooms, then sup together. It was always the same, simple thing.

She shrugged. "Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed is all," _Thanks to you, Snow_.

"Elias!" Maester Aemon called. The blind man felt his way along the wall and stopped in front of Jon and Lyra. "A raven came for you," _Tyrion already? _With frail hands, the maester pulled out a rolled up scroll from his sleeve. Lyra almost gasped when she saw the familiar swimming turtle on the wax stamp.

"When did you get this?" She demanded, tearing the seal off the parchment.

"It came just this morning," Aemon replied. "Well, I'll leave you two to your affairs," He slowly began to make his way to the rookery.

"Thank you, Master Aemon," The Lannister girl muttered absentmindedly. She laughed when she saw the spilled ink all over the letter. _Typical Jonah._ Her mood instantly brightened; Jonah was her best friend and she missed him terribly. He was always able to cheer her up, and he was there for her when no one else was.

"What house is that?" Jon Snow questioned. He picked up the wax seal from the snowy ground. "I've never seen the turtle before,"

"They're not noble," The girl explained. "The Magoses just have a sigil because they feel that they deserve one," She lightly elbowed Jon in the ribs. "Now shut up. I want to read the letter," The Stark bastard nodded and sat down on the nearby stairs.

Lyra didn't feel herself falling until she hit the ground. The letter slipped from her fingers, landing in the thick snow. She felt numb; she didn't even feel she blood trickling down her cheek. Jon questioned and shouted for her, but she couldn't hear him. Her every thought was focused on Jonah. Jonah, who had been her only friend. Jonah, who had helped her escape. Jonah, who had died for her.

_Your safety and your life mean more to me than mine own…I'm a dead man…I love you…I'll see your baby sister soon._

_I killed Jonah…my best friend. My sweet, sweet Jonah. I loved him…_

"Elias!" Jon yelled, shaking her shoulders. "Elias, I've been calling you for the past five minutes. What's wrong? What did the letter say?"

Lyra stared at the bastard with cold, dead eyes. "I never should have left," She felt a lump in her throat. _No, I won't cry. Not in front of Jon. You have to be a _man_, Lyra! A man…_

"Elias, you're crying," Snow murmured. "And you're hurt," He wiped the blood off of her cheek with surprisingly gentle hands.

"Just shut up!" The Lannister screamed. She pushed the boy away, the tears falling freely now. "Leave me alone, Snow!" Her voice cracked. "I don't need _you_, I don't need _anybody_!" The girl picked up the letter. Ignoring his protests, she sprinted to her chambers, the parchment clutched in her gloved hands. The letter was the only thing she had left of Jonah Magos.

"I'm so sorry, Jonah," She whispered, kneeling in front of the hearth in her room. "I loved you too," She hugged her knees to her chest, her body wracking with sobs. "I can't even remember your face anymore," She felt a sharp pain coursing through her body. Lyra read the letter over and over again. She wondered if the tears would ever come to an end. With a strangled gasp, she realized that Jonah had been crying when he wrote this. Her tears mingled with his, the ink running on the thin parchment.

"Why do you think I left? I couldn't stand the thought of marrying someone other than you. I would never be able to bring myself to love the Lefford lordling…I swear, I would only see your face instead of his," She let out a dark laugh. "Look at me, I'm talking to the flames as if they were you," She sighed. "Damn you, Magos. You should have come with me. Couldn't you see that I loved you? You even took my maidenhead before I left,"

A scratching at the door tore her away from the fire. She rubbed her swollen eyes. "Fuck," The girl moaned, holding her head in her hands. When she looked at them, her hands were covered in blood. She pulled out a bandage from her trunk and wrapped it around her throbbing head.

The scratching at the door persisted. "Who is it?" Lyra's words sounded slurred and foreign in her ears. The only answer was loud barking. A smile found its way onto her face as she swung open the door. "Hello, Ghost," She scratched him the ears. The direwolf happily licked her fingers. "Has Jonah somehow sent you to me?" Ghost yapped in reply and cocked his head to the side. "No, I suppose not. Say, where has your master gone?" She noticed a small, rolled up paper tied around the wolf's neck. Hesitantly, Lyra pulled it it off Ghost's neck and began to read the messy writing:

_Elias,_

_I'm sorry if I angered you before. I should have left you alone, just as you said. I see you as a younger brother, but you're not a little child. You don't need me on your head all the time. But judging by how upset you were, I figured you needed some company. I sent Ghost to stay with you for awhile, as you already saw. He'll listen to anything you need to say. I hope you feel better. I'll bring your supper if you don't come down for it. We can talk then, if you'd like._

_Jon._

"Well, come on in, Ghost," The Lannister coaxed the wolf into her room and shut the door behind her. He sat next to her by the fireplace and buried his head in her lap. "Your master is a good man," She murmured, stroking the fur on his neck. "What do you think of him?" Ghost sneezed. "I suppose that's a good answer," The girl giggled. "I wish you could talk. Maybe you could tell me a story. Or jest with me, like Jonah did," She bit the inside of her cheek. "Mayhaps you could give me some advice, like my cousin. I think you liked Tyrion," The direwolf darted his tongue out and licked the leg of her breeches.

"Is it lonely for you here?" Lyra asked. "You only have Jon and I…I'm sure you'd like to have a pretty lady wolf to keep you company," Ghost seemed to grin at that. "Yes, we'll find you a lovely she-wolf, and you two can have beautiful pups together," The direwolf stared at her with bright red eyes. "Perhaps you and I aren't so different," She mused. "Perhaps you're just lonely like I am," Ghost rolled over so she could scratch his belly. "We can be lonely together," She told him, rubbing the soft skin of his underside. "Jon, too, if he'd like. He seems rather lonely. What do you think?" The wolf just snorted and wagged his tail.

Lyra sighed and lay down on the floor. Ghost rolled back over and snuggled up to her side. The girl wrapped her arm around him and buried her face in the scruff of his neck. "Thank you for listening to me, Ghost," He made a sound in the back of his throat, then gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

* * *

The soft rapping at the door roused both Lyra and Ghost. "It's open," The Lannister yawned. She felt better than she had a few hours before, although her heart still ached for Jonah. Her headache had gone away, at least.

Jon Snow stepped into the room, two steaming bowls of stew in his hands. Ghost was instantly at his master's side, begging for some meat. The wolf managed to hop up and grab a large piece of beef, which he gobbled up in seconds.

"How are you feeling, Elias?" Jon asked, sitting down next to the girl. He placed a bowl in front of her. The smell wafted by her nose, and she realized how hungry she was; she hadn't eaten all day.

"My head feels better," She said, shoving a forkful of stew in her mouth. "Ghost is a great person to talk to," Jon offered her a skin of spiced wine. She gladly accepted and took a long swig, the wine warming her belly. "Thank you for sending him. I don't know anyone else who would do that,"

"Maybe because you don't know anyone else with a direwolf," Snow teased, taking the wineskin back from her.

Lyra blushed and playfully shoved his shoulder. "You know what I mean,"

"I know," The boy relented. "And you're welcome. I hated seeing you upset like that," He took a small sip of wine. "If you don't mine me asking, what did the letter say?"

She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It was from my best friend, Jonah," She paused for a moment, thinking of a lie to tell him. "My master got angry at him. Someone must have told him that Jonah wrote the song. Jonah was quite the jester…my master had reason to believe that it was him, although the song was entirely my doing. My master sent out sellswords to find Jonah and kill him. He wrote the letter right before they found him," Lyra swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Yet your master still sent you to the Wall?"

"He was paranoid," She muttered, her appetite suddenly gone.

"I'm sorry," Jon murmured.

"It's alright," She fibbed. No, it _wasn't_ alright. She had been completely selfish, and because she hadn't thought of the consequences, it had cost her best friend his life. The girl set her bowl back down and lay on the wooden floor.

All of her energy was drained, and she was too upset to do anything else but sleep and talk to Jon. He tried to cheer her up by telling her stories of his and his siblings' adventures. Lyra laughed and smiled when it was necessary, but nothing lifted her spirits.

"I'm sorry for being so dull," She said. "I don't want to be a bother. You can go if you'd like," She found it strange how her relationship with Jon often consisted of fights over nothing, and ended with them apologizing for something completely stupid. And the Lannister hated lying to him. She met his grey eyes and wanted to tell him everything, from start to finish.

"Can you play me a song?" He asked quietly, lying on the floor next to her. She felt her heart skip a beat when his shoulder brushed hers. _You're cold, that's all_, she told herself. _He's warm, and you're cold. That's it_. "You seemed to be happy when you played the other night. Perhaps it will cheer you up,"

"Or mayhaps you just want to hear the sweet sound of my voice," She joked.

He chuckled and rested his hands behind his head. "Yes, perhaps that's it. Your voice is as lovely as a maiden's. And I don't see any women here, so you're the closest I'd get-"

"Oh, piss off, Snow!" She cackled. _No women here…oh, if only you knew._

"So go get your harp! I'm not getting any younger," He grinned.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. Lyra pulled the harp out of the trunk and plucked a few strings. "What would you like me to play, Lord Snow?"

He shrugged. "Entirely your decision, singer," She laughed, enjoying that he was playing along.

"What a considerate lordling!" She gushed. "Letting a poor boy like myself to choose the song to enlighten and please him,"

"I hope you choose a good one," he mock-threatened, "or off with your head!"

"Well, considering my balls are already off, I haven't much left to lose, yes?" They doubled over laughing. Ghost tilted his large head to the side and watched the pair strangely. Lyra pushed her bowl of stew towards him and he instantly began to wolf down the meal.

"What sort of song would you like, milord?" She questioned. "Are your spirits dark today, and would you like one to match your mood? Or mayhaps a love song! Is there a pretty maid who has captured your heart?" She asked the question as a jest, but she couldn't help but wonder if he _did _love a woman. Surely not, she concluded; he never once brought up a fair maid. And he was handsome- why would he go to the Wall if he could marry anyone he liked?

"I'm afraid there is no lady love for me," Jon sighed dramatically. "But a love song would be splendid, young lad!"

"Young lad?" She repeated. "My good lord, you are not much older than I am!"

"Just sing already, or you won't get the silver I offered," He smirked. The girl smiled and shook her head.

_"The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,_

_and her kisses were warmer than spring._

_But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,_

_and its kiss was a terrible thing._

_The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed_

_in a voice that was sweet as a peach._

_But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,_

_and a bite sharp and cold as a leech._

_As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,_

_and the taste of his blood on his tongue,_

_His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,_

_and he smiled and laughed as he sung,_

_'Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,_

_the Dornishman's taken my life._

_But what does it matter, for all men must die,_

_and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!'"_

Jon slowly clapped, a smile on his handsome face. "I trust my lord liked the song well enough?" Lyra put the harp back in the trunk.

"Yes, lad- you get to live another day," He beamed. She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him.

She lay down next to him once more, the pair lapsing into a comfortable silence. She was left alone with her thoughts for awhile, which both relaxed and saddened her. Jonah wouldn't get out of her mind. From the window, the girl saw that the sun was beginning to set. She figured that Jon had fallen asleep- he hadn't spoken for quite some time.

"Are you feeling better?" Snow inquired, as if reading her mind.

She moved and saw him already watching her. "Yes," She looked into his eyes. "Thank you. I'm glad to have met you," Lyra moved again and stared at the ceiling. She pursed her lips. "I miss him,"

"And you always will," The Stark bastard replied wisely. "Considering how upset you were, he was a big part of your life,"

_I loved him, Jon Snow. We grew up together, laughed together, played together…shared our beds. He was closer to me than any of my family. He loved me in return. Oh, Jon, if only I could tell you this. You would understand, wouldn't you? I can trust you, can't I?_

"Yes," She said instead. "He was."


	10. Chapter Nine

Next chapter, as promised! c:

So boom, Samwell Tarly. Because of reasons.

And oh my gosh you guys no joke I WOULD actually marry Pyp. Just putting that out there.

Thanks to everyone who reads/subscribes/faves and reviews! :D

Enjoy!

* * *

**_Jon_**

Ghost nudged him in the shoulder with his nose and whined quietly. Jon slowly opened his eyes. He leaned on his elbows, and, from the sunlight streaming through the windows, figured that it was early morning. His back ached from lying on the hard, wooden floor the whole night. "I'll get you food soon, Ghost," Snow assured the wolf with a pat on the head. The direwolf looked at his master with bright red eyes, then sat back down next to a sleeping Elias.

"Wake up," The Stark bastard lightly kicked the singer in the shin. "Elias, wake up," He kicked his friend again.

"Piss off," Hill groaned, his voice thick with sleep. He rolled over so his back was facing Jon. The Western bastard mumbled something about pushy lordlings.

"You snore a lot," Jon informed him. Elias ignored the Northerner. Recalling the events of yesterday's practice session, Snow decided to try a different approach. "Remember what happened last time you didn't break your fast?" He smirked. He cleared his voice and did a rather terrible impression of his friend, "'Jon Snow, enough with the bloody pointers and fucking _fight me _already! I bet I'm just as good as you!'"

"Seven hells, you would look at that!" Hill said dryly. "Jon Snow _cussed_!"

"'Just wait until I get my hands on you, Snow!'" Jon continued to mimic the Southerner. "'You'll wish you were _already _castrated!'"

Elias snorted a laugh. "I said that?"

"I think you might have called me prettier than a whore," Snow grinned.

"Hmm, did I?" The singer mused, rolling onto his back. "Between you and me, we could make a shitload of money down in King's Landing. You're as pretty as a girl, and I have the voice of one,"

"We would be living as well as kings," The Stark bastard agreed.

"Yes, if kings were boy whores," Elias shot back, his lips curling into a smirk.

Jon sat up and rubbed the back of his sore neck. "I'm sure King Robert isn't a long way from that."

* * *

"Left foot forward," Jon instructed Grenn, one of the boys he and Elias were helping. "Good. Now, pivot as you deliver the stroke, and put all your weight behind it,"

Grenn nodded, panting from exertion. He looked over Jon's shoulder and pulled out of his stance. "What in seven hells is _that_?" Jon turned around and saw a smug Alliser Thorne striding out of the armoury, an embarrassed fat boy in tow.

Elias and Pypar, one of the other recruits, stopped sparring and joined Grenn and Jon. "My gods," The singer breathed, staring wide-eyed at the new lad while Grenn and Pyp made jests about him. Jon let out a few chuckles, although he felt guilty afterwards.

"Tell them your name," Thorne commanded when he and the fat boy stopped in front of the four lads.

"Samwell Tarly," The new boy said. Rast, one of the rapers, looked at Samwell as if he were a fresh piece of meat. No doubt the raper would give the Tarly lad a hard time. "Of Horn Hill. I mean, I was of Horn Hill, but…I've come to take the Black," Samwell was breathing quickly by the time he was finished. His eyes darted back and forth across the courtyard.

"Come to take the Black?" Rast repeated, a smirk on his face. "The black _pudding_?" Grenn and Pypar laughed at the joke. Elias was scrutinizing Tarly, his lips twisted into a frown. Samwell looked as if he wanted to die right then and there.

"You couldn't be any worse than you look," Alliser clapped the Tarly boy on the shoulder, putting an end to the boys' laughter. The knight nodded to Rast. "See what he can do,"

The two boys made their way into the middle of the circle that had been formed around them. Samwell had a fierce look of determination on his round face. Rast lunged at his opponent, who was down after three hits. Tarly was screaming in pain and fear. "I yield!" He cried. "No more!" Elias scoffed when he saw the tears streaming down the fat boy's face. Jon gave his friend a sharp nudge in the ribs with his elbow.

"On your feet," Thorne rolled his eyes, sounding bored. "Pick up your sword," Samwell desperately tried to push himself off the ground, but instead found himself rolling and writhing. "Hit him until he finds his feet," Rast delivered several hard blows to the Tarly lad, who continued screaming. Even Grenn and Pyp had stopped laughing. "Seems they've run short of poachers and thieves down South," Alliser watched in amusement as Samwell struggled to avoid Rast's hits. "Now they send us screaming bloody _pigs_!"

"Poor lad," Hill murmured quietly. The Stark bastard gripped his sword tighter and took a step forward. Pyp and Elias held him back, both looking at him as if he had three heads. "What do you think you're doing?" The singer asked him in a hushed tone. "Jon Snow, you're absolutely insane if you're going to do what I think you're going to do," Jon hesitated for a moment. Perhaps his friend was right.

"Again, harder!" Thorne yelled, pulling Snow out of his thoughts. Jon clenched his jaw and shrugged out of their grips.

"_Enough_!" He yelled.

"And of course he does it," He heard Elias mutter under his breath.

Jon ignored the singer. "He yielded," Ser Alliser and Rast stared at him with cold, hard eyes. Snow bent down and helped a whimpering Samwell to his feet.

"Looks like the bastard's in love," Thorne spat. Jon shoved the fat boy into the circle next to Pyp, angry at Samwell for not fighting back, and even angrier at himself for helping him. "Alright then, _Lord Snow_," Alliser glared at him. "If you want to defend your lady love, let's make it an exercise. You two-" He pointed at Grenn and Pyp, gesturing for them to come closer. They reluctantly stood on either side of Rast. "The three of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal," He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "All you gotta do is get past the bastards,"

"Charming," Hill rolled his green eyes. He stood next to Jon and gave his head a tiny shake. Jon ignored him; it was too late to turn back now.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Snow asked the three other boys.

"No," Grenn blurted out. Pyp nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another. Rast was the first to lunge. He went straight for Jon, who easily avoided the swing of his sword. The Stark bastard kicked him in the shin, then punched the raper, sending him to the ground. Elias exchanged hits with Pypar, fire flashing in his emerald eyes. He soon knocked over Pyp, but gave him an apologetic look. Jon knew that the Western bastard had a soft spot for his sparring partner.

Grenn charged at him, meeting Jon's sword in the air. Snow hit him in the ribs with his arms and kicked him to the ground. He was caught off-guard when he heard the loud sound of swords clanging together right behind him. He turned around and saw Elias deliver a blow to Rast's arm, who had tried to sneak up on Jon. The Stark bastard kicked the raper in in the groin and punched him in the face. He fell onto the ground, groaning with pain.

Grenn stood up and took a step towards Jon. Snow raised his sword and was about to hit the lad. "Yield, yield, yield!" Grenn raised his hands and dropped his sword. "I yield,"

"We're done for today," Thorne scowled, gritting the words out as if they had a foul taste. "Go clean up the armoury," He looked directly at Jon. "That's all you're good for," The knight stormed off.

Pypar strode up to Grenn. "Well fought," He laughed.

"Piss off," His friend growled. He spat, the spittle freezing the moment it hit the ground.

"You could have done worse," Elias crossed his arms over his chest. He subtly nodded towards Samwell Tarly. Grenn and Pyp grinned at the singer. Jon tried to hide his smile. Rast slowly walked by them, giving the two bastards dirty looks. "See something interesting?" Hill narrowed his eyes at the raper. He glared at the singer before stalking off.

"Thank you," Snow said to the singer. "Rast could have knocked me out if it weren't for you," Elias opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Samwell.

"Did he hurt you two?" He asked.

"I've had worse," Jon replied. "Elias, too, I'm sure," Hill's cheek twitched angrily.

"You can call me Sam," The fat boy muttered. "If you want. My mother calls me Sam-"

"It's not going to get any easier, you know," Snow snapped. "You're gonna have to defend yourself,"

"One time, Tarly, _that's it_," Elias clenched and unclenched his fists. "I'm not fighting your bloody battles for you,"

"Why didn't you get up and fight?" Grenn added.

"I wanted to," Sam looked as if he was going to cry again. "I just couldn't,"

"Why not?" Grenn demanded.

Sam sighed and looked at the ground. "I'm a coward," Grenn and Pyp shared an incredulous look. "My father always said so,"

Jon's voice softened. "The Wall is no place for cowards-"

"You're right, I'm sorry," Samwell smiled nervously. "I just wanted to thank you," He shuffled off without another word.

"A bloody coward," Grenn gaped once Tarly was out of earshot. His expression hardened. "People saw us talking to him! Now they'll think _we're _cowards, too!"

"You're too stupid to be a coward," Pyp quipped.

"_You're _too stupid to be a-"

"Will you two shut up?" Elias shouted, stomping his foot. "You're _both_ stupid. We _all _are. We never should have helped Samwell. It won't do him any good," The three other boys murmured agreement.

Pyp tossed his practice sword from one hand to the other. "Can't save the pig from the slaughterhouse."


	11. Chapter Ten

Hullo! C:

More canon stuff yay!

I really don't have much to say about this chapter. I (obviously) own nothing, except for Lyra and Jonah. But I wish I owned Jon Snow. Alas, that is not the case.

Thanks to everyone who reads/subscribes/faves and most especially, reviews! Reviews are always welcome! :'D

Ooh, also, the OC poll is now CLOSED! The winner is...Elira Manston from Queen in the North! So you might want to go check that story out c:

Thanks for voting, guys!

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**_Lyra_**

The two sat in silence as they stared at the landscape ahead of them. Up on top of the Wall, Lyra felt invincible. She felt as if she was taller than any man alive, even the giants. She felt like a god, watching over all the people in the land. _Of course_, she thought to herself, _if I was a god, I wouldn't make it so bloody cold all the time._

"How do you _stand _it, Snow?" The girl's teeth chattered with every word. She huddled deeper into her cloak and sat closer to the fire.

"I'm from the North," Jon replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "After seventeen years of living here, you get used to it,"

"It's going to take me a lot more than seventeen years," Lyra grumbled, wringing her hands together to get rid of the numbness. At times like these, during the late watches with Jon, she wanted nothing more than to be back at Casterly Rock, in her castle, by her hearth. Her servants had always brought her her favourite drink on the chillier nights; hot chocolate with a shot of spiced wine.

A strong gust of wind brought her back to the harsh, freezing climate. She pulled her hood over her head and brought her scarf higher up on her face. She didn't turn when she heard footsteps. Lyra figured it was just Pyp trying to scare her again; usually, she was on watch duty alone- he must have thought she was alone once more. A couple nights ago, her sparring partner decided to act upon the opportunity. He came up behind her, as silent as death, and whispered her name- no, her alias' name- in her ear. She could have sworn she woke up all of Castle Black with her high pitched scream.

"Hello," Lyra almost groaned out loud. She settled for a roll of the eyes as Samwell Tarly shuffled closer to her and Jon. "Ser Alliser said I'm to be your new watch partner,"

"Tell him that we're doing just fine on our own," The Lannister snapped. She clutched her cloak tighter in her gloved hands. She always enjoyed time alone with Jon; why did Sam have to spoil it?

"I-I'm sorry," The fat boy stuttered.

"Don't listen to him," The Stark bastard told Samwell. "He doesn't get along with most people,"

"Ha, ha," Lyra's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Fuck you, too, Snow," Jon grinned at the girl.

Samwell let out a nervous chuckle and leaned against a wooden bar. "I should warn you…I don't see all that well,"

"Come stand by the fire," Snow commanded. "It's warmer,"

"No, that's alright, I'm fine," Sam mumbled.

"You're not," Jon reprimanded. "You're freezing," _Stupid, pig-headed boy,_ The Lannister thought to herself. _Looks like one and he acts like one_. She heard Sam shuffle closer to her and Jon. He stopped next to her and gave her a fleeting glance. Her green eyes hardened, then flickered back to look into the flames.

"I don't like high places," Tarly admitted.

By the way Jon Snow's cheek twitched, Lyra knew that the bastard had finally snapped. "You can't fight. You can't see. You're afraid of heights, and almost everything else, probably," His grey eyes bored into Sam's. "What are you doing here, Sam?"

Samwell swallowed visibly. "On the morning of my eighteenth nameday, my father came to me," His voice shook ever so slightly. "'You're almost a man now,' he said. 'But you're not worthy of my land and title,'" Lyra slowly looked away from the flames and stared at the highborn lad. "'Tomorrow, you're going to take the Black, forsake all claims to your inheritance and start North.

"'If you do not,' he said, 'we'll have a hunt. And somewhere in these woods, your horse will stumble, and you will be thrown from your saddle to die,'" Sam took a deep breath and kept his eyes down. "'And then I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more,'"

Lyra gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Sam's story reminded her of when her father told her of her betrothal. _"You will marry Axel Lefford, Lyra…or, I swear, you can say goodbye to your little stableboy. I never liked that one. I'll be sure to give him a slow death…I hope you can handle blood, sweetling. I'll make you watch as the life slowly drains from him."_

"Ser Alliser's going to make me fight again tomorrow, isn't he?" Samwell asked, bringing Lyra back to the present. She was glad for the dark to hide her tear trail. Never would she think of Jonah and her father without feeling pain.

"Yes, he is," Jon and Lyra chorused quietly.

"I'm not going to get any better, you know!" Tarly whined.

"Well," Snow began. "You can't get any worse," His face split into a huge grin. The two boys began to laugh. The Lannister always loved the sound of Jon's laugh. She felt her heart skip a beat when the bastard's grey eyes locked with her own. She gave him a tiny shake of her head and let out a chuckle. _Jon Snow, you're too good of a lad for your own good. Do you know that?_

* * *

The next morning, Lyra woke up bright and early. She quickly washed up donned her thick clothing. She hadn't had a decent meal in two days, and she was not about to bring it up to a third. Jon and Sam had been kind enough to let her finish her watch earlier last night. Snow claimed that she was starting to look ill. "Thank you, Mother Snow," she'd said. "How kind of you to look out for me."

"Where have you been?" Grenn asked Jon as he made his way over to the three.

"Watch duty. With Sam," Jon explained, shrugging off his cloak. He took his regular seat next to Lyra.

"Ah, Prince Porkchop!" Pypar crowed. "Where is he?"

"He wasn't hungry," The Stark bastard pulled off his gloves.

"Impossible!" Grenn and Lyra chuckled at Pyp's remark; he reminded her so much of Jonah. Perhaps that's why she had a soft spot for the big-eared boy.

"That's enough," Snow interrupted. He grabbed a bowl of stew and a piece of bread.

"Stop being such a stick in the mud!" The Lannister girl smirked. "We're not doing any harm. Just having a little fun, is all,"

He glared at her. "Sam's no different from the rest of us. There was no place for him in the world, so he's come here," Snow seemed to hesitate for a moment. "You're not going to hurt him in the training yard anymore. Never again, no matter what Thorne says. He's our brother now, and we're going to protect him,"

"You are in love, Lord Snow!" Rast hooted. His two cohorts laughed loudly. The raper and the bastard turned around in their seats to face each other. "You girls can do as you please. But if Thorne puts me up against _Lady Piggy_…I'm going to slice me off a side of bacon," Rast's friends laughed again. Lyra silenced them when she stabbed the wooden table with her concealed dagger.

Lyra, Jon, Grenn and Pyp faced each other once more. The girl pulled the dagger out of the table and shoved it back into its sheath. She nodded once to Jon Snow. "No one hurts Sam."

* * *

That night, while everyone was sleeping, the four- five, including Ghost- silently made their way to Rast's chambers. Grenn and Pyp held the raper down while Jon gagged him. The direwolf sat on Rast's chest, his sharp teeth bared. Lyra slipped out her dagger and held it against the raper's throat, an innocent smile on her face.

"No one touches Sam," Jon Snow said in a deathly quiet voice. Lyra repressed a shudder; she had never seen him like this before. And, quite frankly, she never wanted to again.

Ghost growled and barked, his red eyes flashing angrily. Rast gasped as the Stark bastard took away the gag. With one final growl, the direwolf followed the four out. Lyra spared one last glance at Rast, who was panting heavily. She chuckled quietly; _never fuck with Jon Snow_.

* * *

"What are you waiting for?" Ser Alliser Thorne demanded, his eyes never leaving Rast. Samwell and the raper circled around each other, practice swords in hand. Sam lunged, but Rast easily blocked the blow. The sword flew right out of Tarly's hand. Jon and Lyra watched the raper expectantly. With a scowl, he let Samwell pick up his sword.

"_Attack him_!" Alliser yelled. Looking once back to Jon and Lyra, Rast lamely hit Sam in the arm. Angrily, the old knight pulled the raper out of the way. "You!" He pointed to Grenn. "Get in there,"

Grenn looked behind him, then turned back to Samwell. "Hit me," He whispered. Snow smiled encouragingly and Lyra nodded her head eagerly when Tarly looked over his shoulder at them. "Go on! Hit me!" Grenn ordered. Samwell hit the boy in the arm with the flat side of his sword. Dramatically, Grenn fell to the ground, howling. "Ow! Yield! Yield, yield!" Everyone in the courtyard laughed at his antics.

Everyone except Ser Alliser. He pushed and shoved his way to Jon, who he grabbed roughly by the collar. Lyra looked on in horror, resisting the urge to strike the knight. "You think this is funny, do you?" He pushed the bastard away and turned toward the other boys.

"Are you alright?" The Lannister murmured.

"I'm fine," Snow assured her.

"When you're out there, beyond the Wall, with the sun going down…do you want a man at your back? Or a sniveling boy?"

* * *

"You're a great help to us, Elias," Jon teased. He and Sam cleaned the tables while Lyra relaxed on one of the benches, a warm mug of ale in her hands.

"I did two of them _by myself_," She protested behind the rim of her mug. Snow's lips curled upwards at the corners.

Samwell changed the subject. "I know for a fact that some of the officers go to that brothel in Mole's Town,"

"I wouldn't doubt it," The Stark bastard agreed.

"It's hard to give up women," Lyra added. She knew that her brother, Felix, had frequented the whore houses rather often. He always said there was nothing better than a woman's cunt.

"Don't you think it's a little bit unfair?" Sam frowned. "Making us take our vows while they sneak off for a little…sally on the side?"

"Sally on the side?" Jon and Lyra laughed.

"Silly, isn't it! What, we can't defend the Wall unless we're celibate? It's _absurd_!"

"I didn't think you'd be so upset about it," Jon frowned.

Samwell stopped scrubbing the table and gaped at the bastard. "Why not? Because I'm fat?"

"No-"

"Look, I like girls just as much as you do," He paused for a moment. "They might not like _me _as much, but…" His eyes darted from Jon to Lyra. "I've never…_been _with one," He picked up his brush again. "You two probably had hundreds," _Just one_, Lyra thought to herself. _Well, one _person_. Jonah would hardly like it if he was called a girl_. The stableboy would always try and prove his manliness to her and the other girls in the town.

"No," Snow replied. "As a matter of fact," he put down the brush, "the same as you,"

Sam let out a chuckle. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. I find that hard to believe-"

"I came very close once. I was alone in a room with a naked girl, but…"

The Lannister girl took a sip of her wine as she watched the two boys. "Didn't know where to put it?" Samwell tried. Lyra's wine sprayed out of her nose when she laughed. She covered her reddening face and attempted to hide her giggles.

"I know where to put it," Jon snapped, glaring daggers at Lyra and Sam. She bit her lip to contain her laughter.

"Was she…old and ugly?" Samwell grimaced.

"Young and gorgeous," Jon smiled wistfully. He sat on the table. "A whore named Ros," Lyra felt a stab of jealousy course through her veins; she had never been called pretty before. Most people mistook her for a boy, with her hard eyes and strong jaw. Lyra Lannister was never the girl that turned heads when she walked down the streets. Her sister, Riyen, was the beauty, and had many more admirers, despite being two years younger than Lyra.

"What color hair?" Samwell pressed.

"Red,"

"Ooh, I like red hair," His cheeks flushed. "And her, um…?" He placed his hands on his chest. Lyra smiled at the fat boy.

"You don't want to know," Jon grinned.

"What, that good?"

"Better," Another wave of jealousy flooded over her; she had always thought her breasts were much too small.

"So, why exactly didn't you make love to Ros, with the perfect…?" Sam put his hands on his chest again.

"What's my name?" Jon asked after a moment of silence.

"Jon Snow," Tarly answered, obviously confused. Frankly, Lyra wasn't exactly sure where Jon was going with this, either.

"And why is my surname Snow?"

"Because…you're a bastard. From the North,"

"I never met my mother," Snow began quietly. "My father wouldn't even tell me her name. I don't know if she's living or dead. I don't know if she's a noblewoman, or a fisherman's wife…or a whore," He paused, flicking his grey eyes upward to meet Lyra's green ones. She nodded, urging him to continue. "So I sat there, in the brothel, as Ros took off her clothes. And I couldn't do it. 'Cause all I could think was…what if I got her pregnant? If she had a child? Another bastard named Snow," He hopped off the table and continued to scrub it. "It's not a good life for a child,"

Lyra frowned. _Jon, you can't be serious. Enough with your damned honor all the time…just live a little._

Samwell's face cracked into a grin. "So you _didn't _know where to put it!" Jon threw his brush away and ran over to Sam. The two boys began pushing each other, laughing all the while.

"Get 'im, Sam!" Lyra crowed.

"Enjoying yourselves?" The girl held back a yelp as Ser Alliser Thorne came up behind her. She caught her mug just as it was about to hit the floor. She thanked the Seven that there was no more wine left in it. "Are you cold, boys?" The knight sneered as Jon and Sam resumed cleaning the tables. Lyra grabbed a spare brush and started to scrub. She felt as if Thorne's eyes were burning holes into the back of her head.

"'Tis a bit nippy," Samwell mumbled.

"A bit nippy, yeah?" Alliser raised his eyebrows. "By the fire, indoors…and it's still summer. Do you boys even remember the last winter? How long has it been now? What, ten years?" His hard eyes locked on Jon Snow.

"I remember," Snow muttered.

"Was it uncomfortable at Winterfell? On those days where you just couldn't get warm, never mind how many fires your servants built-"

Jon's cheek twitched. "I build my own fires,"

"That's admirable," Thorne glared. "I spent six months out there, beyond the Wall, during the last winter. It was supposed to be a two week mission. We heard a rumour Mance Rayder was planning to attack Eastwatch. So we went out to look for some of his men- capture them, gather some knowledge. The wildlings who fight for Mance Rayder are hard men- harder than you'll ever be. They know their country better than we do. They _knew _there was a storm coming in. So they hid in their caves and waited for it to pass. And we got caught in the open.

"Winds so strong it yanked hundred foot trees straight from the ground, roots and all. If you took your gloves off to find your cock to have a piss, you lost a finger to the frost. And all in darkness. _You don't know cold_. None of you do.

"The horses died first. We didn't have enough to feed them, to keep them warm. Eating the horses was easy. But later, when _we _started to fall," The knight shook his head, his eyes filled with the pain the memories brought with them. "That wasn't easy. We should have brought a few boys like you along, shouldn't we?" He walked up to Samwell, his face hardening once more. "Soft, fat boys like you. We would have lasted a fortnight on you, and still have bones left over for soup," Sam's breaths were quick and shallow. His nervousness radiated off of him in waves.

Thorne stepped away from the highborn lad and strode over to the door. "Soon, there will be new recruits. And you will be passed onto the Lord Commander for _assignment_. And they will call you Men of the Night's Watch. But you'll be fools to believe it. You're _boys_, still. And come the winter, you will die. Like flies," With one final look towards the three, he turned on his heel and walked back out into the cold air.

Lyra poured herself some more ale. She put a smile on her face and raised the cup in the air, hoping to lighten the mood. "Here's hoping we don't get assigned to Thorne," She threw her head back and drained the glass in one swig.

"Were you ever…with someone, Elias?" Samwell questioned.

She bowed her head and set the mug down on the table. "I don't like to talk about it,"

"Come on, Elias," Jon tried. "I told you about Ros,"

The girl sighed and played with a loose hem on her tunic. "It was right I was castrated. Almost a year ago. I admired one of the local girls in town for awhile," She bit her lip and felt her heart ache once again for Jonah. "On my fourteenth name day, she told me to come to her quarters. I followed her. She kissed me, and…it happened," She felt stupid for lying to them, but she couldn't tell them about Jonah, nor any other aspect of her real, true life. Even pretending to be two years younger made her feel strange.

"There," She concluded. "I told you two. Now please don't talk to me about it ever again."


	12. Chapter Eleven

Hello all! :D

Before I start, let me just give a big thanks to Chris Colfer for being fabulous. His music (most notably Le Jazz Hot) has gotten me through the week and has helped me written this chapter.

Also, there's a big poll on my page that needs voting! :D

Thanks to everyone who reads/faves/subscribes and most especially reviews! You rock!

I think this chapter will please those Jon/Lyra shippers...ehehe.

Enjoy! Mwah!

* * *

**_Jon_**

He pulled his cloak tighter around him to shield himself from the fluttering snowflakes. The days were growing shorter and the air colder. Jon Snow knew that his house words were becoming true; winter was coming. Long summers meant even longer winters, much to his dismay. Old Nan's stories suddenly came flooding back, sending a shiver down his spine. _There was once a winter that lasted a generation…the dead rose with the cold winds…no one was safe…_

"I miss girls!" Samwell Tarly whined, snapping Jon out of his reverie. "Not even talking to them, I never talked to them!" He paused for a moment. "Just looking at them. Hearing them giggle,"

"If you miss girls that much," Elias Hill began matter-of-factly from behind the Stark bastard, "just go visit the brothel at Mole's Town tonight,"

"But the vows-"

"Sam, you haven't even said the words yet," The singer retorted. "You have a _whole night _before you take your vows," He kicked the thick snow and ice with his booted foot. Jon barely paid attention to their conversation. Instead, he looked ahead at the white landscape in front of him. _We're supposed to be on watch duty, dammit, not gossiping like ladies in court!_

"Don't you miss girls?" Sam asked. Snow assumed that the question was directed to the Western bastard, so he kept his eyes forward.

"I bet _they_ miss him," Elias teased, making Jon realize that Samwell had been talking to him. "He's as pretty as a whore, this one," He and Tarly chuckled at the expense of the Northerner.

"_Riders_!" Samwell shouted, turning serious once more. "The horn! We have to blow the horn!" He frantically looked around and searched for the horn, his face panic-stricken.

"Why is he alone?" Jon spoke to no one in particular.

"A wildling?" Elias suggested. He shook his head after the words left his mouth, his bangs falling over his face. "Can't be; wildlings aren't stupid enough to try and get past the Wall during the day,"

"One blast for a ranger returning," Tarly muttered, digging around the site for the horn. "Two for wildlings. Three for-"

"There's no rider," Jon interrupted, staring down at the horse in shock. He spun on his heel and brushed past the two other lads, his mouth set into a determined line. He stepped into the winch elevator, Sam and Elias hot on his trail. He inwardly urged the winch elevator to go faster, but it was no use.

"Relax," The singer murmured from beside him. "You look like you've just seen a bloody ghost," He tried to laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood, but was quickly silenced with a glare from the Northerner.

"That's my uncle Benjen's horse!" Jon declared, pushing past other men and recruits of the Night's Watch. He ran up to the horse, who was whinnying and bucking continuously. "Where's my uncle?" He demanded, whipping his head around to face Lord Commander Mormont. Jeor responded with a hard and solemn stare.

"Jon, your uncle's First Ranger," Elias essayed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be alright," For moment, Jon almost believed his friend. But without proof of his uncle's survival, he wasn't sure of anything. _The cold winds are rising…_

* * *

**_Lyra_**

She collapsed onto her bed, glad to finally be alone. Everyone was agitated and anxious today, most probably because they were nervous about taking their vows tomorrow. Pyp turned as pale as a ghost whenever the vows were mentioned, and Grenn looked like he wanted to vomit. She couldn't blame them, really; a life spent freezing your ass off and being mocked by the rest of the realm wasn't exactly the picture perfect lifestyle most of them had always dreamed about.

Lyra Lannister lay in bed for awhile and stared up at the ceiling. The only noises she heard were her breathing and her heartbeat, both of which sounded extremely loud in her ears. Despite her heavy eyelids, sleep would not find her. She tossed and turned, and even counted horses and sheep in her mind like her septa always used to tell her, yet she remained awake. Deciding some fresh air would do her good, she rolled out of bed and reached for her chest bindings.

Her drowsiness vanished as soon as she heard the knocking at her door. She assumed it must have been past midnight; who would be visiting her at such late hours? "I swear, Pyp, if you're trying to scare me again-"

"It's not Pyp," Jon Snow answered, tired amusement evident in his voice. "May I come in? I brought wine," She rolled her eyes; in the few weeks they had known each other, he'd quickly discovered her taste for wine.

"It better be the-"

"Mulled warm spice wine, I know, I know," Snow chuckled. "Nothing less for you,"

"Thanks, love," She retaliated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Jon's chuckles escaladed into laughter at her jab. "Just a moment," She replied, hastily binding her chest. As an afterthought, she donned a thicker tunic on her way to the door. "What're you still doing up?" She asked, opening the door. She stepped aside to let him inside.

"I should be asking you the same thing," He shot back, smirking. He walked over to the hearth and sat in front of it, warming his hands by the fire. Her eyes widened for a moment when she realized that his chest was bare. She looked away, blushing furiously. _Thank the Seven he didn't see. _She had to remind herself that she was Elias now, not Lyra. _Elias...Elias..._she thought to herself, desperately trying not to pay attention to the way his muscles rippled under his skin with every movement.

"What makes you think I wasn't sleeping?" She lamely protested after a few moments of silence.

He snorted. "If you had been sleeping, I'd either still be waiting outside your door, or have a sword in my back," She bit back a smile and elbowed him in the ribs.

"So, what brings you here, Jon Snow?" She asked, falling back into the easy conversation with him.

"I couldn't sleep," He lowered his voice and lay down on the floor. "I can't stop thinking about what's going to happen tomorrow," The bastard let out a soft sigh.

"We'll take our vows, and we'll become Sworn Brothers of the Night's Watch," Lyra said simply. "Just like you've always wanted,"

"Just like I've always wanted," He repeated in a whisper. She lay down next to him; it had become a habit of theirs. She couldn't look at the hearth without thinking of Jon Snow and all the memories they had shared there. "I wonder if she'd be proud of me," His voice was barely audible.

To Lyra, it was obvious as to whom Jon was referring to. "Of course she would be," She grabbed his hand in hers and squeezed it; she was surprised that he didn't pull away, but she didn't let it show on her face. "And so is your father,"

"I promised my brothers that I would come see them in Winterfell after I took my vows," He looked at the Lannister girl, the warmth returning to his grey eyes. "How about you come with me?"

"What a considerate lordling," She laughed, beaming. "I'd love to. Thank you," The Southerner sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "Pour me a glass, Snow," She commanded, watching her toes as she wiggled them. He automatically obliged and filled a mug to the brim.

"And what about you?" Jon inquired, pouring himself a mug.

"What do you mean?" Lannister took a sip of the wine. It pleasantly burned her throat as it went down, and warmed her stomach.

"You're going to take the vows, too," He reminded her, leaning on his elbows, his mug in hand. "How do you feel?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "Seven hells, you're becoming a woman," She'd always gotten along with the boys in her town better than the girls; girls were too empty headed, and got too much amusement out of talking about their emotions and the latest fashions. While they were comparing their hairstyles, she was off sparring with her brothers and Jonah. "But, I guess I'm excited for tomorrow," Her teeth grazed her bottom lip. "I'm nervous, though,"

"We'll be rangers together," The Stark bastard promised. "We'll go out riding beyond the Wall. We'll be unstoppable," He paused for a moment. "Unless you're scared,"

"Am not!" Lyra growled, crossing her arms over her chest. Her green eyes met his grey ones, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. "Jon, I can trust you, right?" The words spilled out of her mouth without thinking.

"Of course," He furrowed his eyebrows. "What's troubling you, Elias?" _I'm not Elias! _she wanted to yell. _Stop calling me that! _His eyes searched hers, and she felt her heart leap out of her chest. She couldn't do this anymore; Jon was the one true friend she'd made here, and he had been nothing but truthful with her.

"Please don't get mad," She begged, setting her mug on the floor. "I _wanted _to tell you, only…" She swiped at her eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him.

"Only what?" Snow sat up and put his hands on her shoulders. "Elias, you can tell me-"

"There _is _no Elias!" Lyra found herself telling him. "There never _was_! That's what I wanted to tell you!" She took a deep breath and attempted to keep her voice steady. "Elias Hill isn't real,"

"W-what do you mean?" The bastard spluttered out. He took his hands off her shoulders quickly as if he'd been burnt. "W-who are you, then?"

"Lyra Lannister, of Casterly Rock," She murmured. "Six-and-ten years, making me the third child of Lord Ouen Lannister. I ran to the Wall after my father announced he was forcing me to marry," She rubbed her temples with her forefingers. "Jon, I'm _so _sorry. You don't know how badly I wanted to tell you,"

"The Lannisters tried to kill my brother," He gritted out, staring at the floor. She said nothing; she knew that her family was ruthless. It didn't surprise her that they would try and murder an innocent boy.

"I hope this doesn't change the way you think of me," She chewed on her thumbnail nervously.

"It doesn't," The corner of his mouth twitched. "I won't tell anyone, El- _Lyra_," Jon sighed. "I'll have to get used to calling you that,"

"Don't get too comfortable," She teased. "You just said you wouldn't tell my secret. I'm counting on you for that," He laughed silently and met her eyes once more. "Thank you," She whispered, reaching for his hand. Her fingers intertwined with his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Please don't lie to me again," He muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. Speechless, she gave a small nod. Before she knew what she was doing, she cupped his cheek and leaned forward, gently pressing her lips against his. He didn't pull away, but instead kissed her back, his hands hesitantly placing themselves on her waist. With one hand, she tangled her fingers in his thick, dark curls and pulled him closer. The other rested at the back of his neck. Jon trailed his hands along the sides of her body, sending shivers up and down her spine.

Not enough air was entering her body, she decided. Feeling breathless, she reached under her tunics and tugged at the binding. Lyra tossed away the cloth and climbed into Jon Snow's lap. She realized that she was still lightheaded, and inwardly cursed the bastard and his touch.

"The bed," The Lannister managed to pant out as the Northerner's lips trailed down her neck. _Never been with a woman, my ass._ "I am_ not_ sleeping on the floor again," He chuckled against her neck and stood up, lifting her with him easily, as if she weighed no more than a child. Lyra pulled off one of the tunics and threw it carelessly to the floor. His lips crashed against hers as he climbed on top of her. She felt his hardness pressing against her thigh and let out a small gasp. Instinctively, she ground her hips against his, eliciting a groan from him.

"What if I get you pregnant?" Jon blurted out, pulling away from Lyra.

The girl sat up and brushed his long hair away from his handsome face. "You won't," She promised, kissing him softly. "Just forget everything for tonight. Before we take our vows," She chuckled against his lips. "You think too much, Jon Snow,"

"What if I hurt you?" His hands found their place at her waist once more.

"You won't," She hesitated for a moment. "I've done this before. It'll be fine," She gave him a chaste kiss. Jon deepened the kiss and pushed her onto the bed once more.

Their tongues dueled for control while their hands roamed each others' bodies. Lyra, wanting to feel her skin against his, pulled off her second tunic and met his mouth in another heated kiss. Jon, although inexperienced, was a quick learner. He was gentle, but still enjoyed teasing her.

With desperate hands, they pulled each others' breeches off with fumbling fingers. He nestled himself in between her legs, uncertainty crossing his features. "Go ahead," She assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Slowly, he nudged himself inside her, his eyes locked on hers.

Jon Snow was a tender lover, yet shy and questioning as well. He was unsure of what to do when Lyra flipped them over and straddled him halfway through, but it was most probably due to her boldness. _The man is always in control_, her mother told her when the marriage between her and the Lefford boy was announced. _Whether it be for the kingdom, the castle, the family, or his wife. The man is always in control_.

They held each other for a long while after, silent except for their quiet pants. She couldn't help but feel proud of herself; _I was Jon Snow's first._ Jon, who could have had any maid he wanted, had chosen her.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Was I..." He trailed off. She noticed the faint flush on his cheeks. "Did you enjoy it?" She let out a laugh and nodded, pecking him on the lips.

"And you, Jon Snow?" He blushed furiously and nodded. She laughed again and rested her head on his shoulder. "Go to bed. We have a long day ahead of ourselves tomorrow."


	13. Chapter Twelve

**_Sorry for the delay! School is just really draining and yeah. But it was Thanksgiving weekend now so I had time to do this. HAPPY TURKEY DAY, Y'ALL._**

GUYS LISTEN UP. I made a Facebook page, and it'd be super awesome if you guys would 'like' it! It'll give you updates as to when my chapters are posted, and you'll get some sneak peeks for upcoming chapters and stories and chiz. Also, I just find it kind of cool because it's a lot more personal than this.

So anyway the Facebook page is Leapylion3 Fanfiction. Go like it guys. I'll love you forever (but I already kind of do, so I can only bribe you with more previews and stuff...)

Thanks to Charlotte K for the beta!

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Enjoy!

* * *

**_Jon_**

The familiar sound of the faint snores of his friend slowly pulled him back into consciousness. He craned his neck and saw Elias- _no, __**Lyra**_, he had to remind himself- snuggled into his side, using his shoulder as a pillow. Their bare legs were intertwined under the thick furs, and Jon had an arm wrapped loosely around her waist. He felt his head throbbing dully and held back a groan. _Maybe the wine wasn't your best idea, Snow..._

Last night, so much had happened and changed between the two. Jon almost felt as if he was still dreaming; he was on the _Wall_, for gods' sakes. There weren't supposed to be any women there, let alone _noble ladies_. Perhaps if he closed his eyes, everything would make sense again...perhaps, he would be back home in Winterfell, with his family...

But alas, he was awake, and the Lannister girl in his arms was most definitely real.

He couldn't lie to himself; he enjoyed last night more than he thought possible. He had often ignored Theon Greyjoy's constant comments about how good it was to be inside a woman, but now that he had experienced it firsthand…he couldn't help but agree with the Ironborn. Of course, if he ever ran into the ward again, he'd never admit that he was right; it would only add to his already enormous ego.

Lyra stirred in his arms, muttering incoherently. "Lyra?" Jon murmured in her ear. He noticed the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. She grumbled a curse under her breath and turned away from him. "Lyra, wake up," He urged, rolling over so his chest was pressed against her back. "We can't be late. We're taking our vows today,"

"Don't remind me," She whined. "Just let me have my sleep, Snow," He knew she was only like this because it was early; if he had learned anything during the time they spent together, it was that Lyra Lannister was _not_ a morning person.

A wicked thought made its way into his head. _She always __**did**__ need extreme circumstances to wake her up_...Jon trailed his lips down her neck and stopped at her shoulder, planting a soft kiss there. She muffled a noise into her pillow. He smirked and made his way back up her neck and nibbled on her earlobe. He felt a twitching in his groin when she let out a soft moan.

"Jon, I'm up, I'm up," She pleaded. She grinded against him when his fingers ghosted the side of her body. He growled and pulled her closer to him. _Bad idea, Jon, bad idea..._but all his inward protests were silenced once Lyra turned her head and crushed her lips against his. He groaned into her mouth and tangled his fingers in her short and uneven dyed hair. She turned the rest of her body around and pushed him onto his back, straddling him, her lips never leaving his. Jon felt himself go fully erect as her breasts brushed against his chest.

"There's no way," Lyra breathed against his lips, "that you haven't been with a woman before me," She dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades and bit back a moan.

Snow chuckled and placed his hands on her hips, steadying her. "I should think to take that as a compliment?" He inquired, nuzzling her neck. She nodded and recaptured his lips in a passionate, almost desperate, kiss. He thrust up into her, another groan escaping his lips. The Lannister girl arched her back, her hair falling over her face. Jon watched her with hungry eyes before flipping them over so he was on top.

"Feeling bold, eh, Snow?" The Southerner teased in between pants. The Stark bastard grinned wolfishly and leaned in to kiss her neck. He quickly found her favourite spot, behind her ear. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against her.

Jon lasted longer than Lyra had this time. After they finished, he reluctantly pulled out of her and their embrace. "I have to go," He quickly pecked her on the forehead. "I'll see you later,"

"Well, Elias, anyway," The girl half-smiled. He nodded, suddenly serious. "Don't look so glum," She commanded gently. "We'll be rangers together," _Just like I've always wanted..._

* * *

Jon and the others met in the courtyard in the late morning. Everyone was trembling and shaking with nervousness under the scrutinizing eyes of Lord Commander Mormont and Ser Alliser Thorne. Soon, they would no longer be boys. They would be sworn men of the Night's Watch. _For life_.

"You scared?" Lyra teased, sidling up next to him. Sam, Pyp and Grenn soon followed and joined the two on the benches. Jon could only smile weakly and wring his hands together. Her expression softened and she gave his shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "It will be fine. Trust me," Before he could respond, Mormont began to speak from his place on the balcony.

"You came to us as outlaws, poachers, rapers, killers, thieves. You came alone…in chains. Without friends, or honor. You came to us rich," Jon could have sworn that Mormont looked at him when he said this, "and you came to us poor. Some of you bore the names of proud houses," Again, the bastard felt the Lord Commander's eyes on him. _Just ignore it. Look somewhere else. _He tried to fight the paranoid feeling, but Lyra kicked him in the shin, an amused glint in her eye.

"What?" Snow whispered. He didn't want to get in trouble, but the Lannister girl seemed to have a knack for bringing it with her.

"He's looking at you," She whispered back. Her lips curled upwards at the corners. She turned away from him and continued to listen to Mormont's speech, satisfied with herself. Jon frowned and looked back to the Lord Commander, who was still reciting his speech.

"And others only bastard names or no names at all. It _does not _matter. All that is in the past," There was a hint of a smile etched on his wrinkled face. "_Here_, on the Wall, we are all one house,"

"You're allowed to look happy," Samwell murmured from Jon's other side, distracting him yet again. "You're going to be a ranger!" _Just like I've always wanted_. "Isn't that what you've always wanted?" Tarly added, as if reading his mind. Mormont's words became a distant mumbling in his ears.

"I want to find my uncle," Snow answered, his eyes set forward, his jaw clenched tightly. _I want to find Uncle Benjen, and I just want to go __**home**__._ But it was too late for any second thoughts, and he knew it. "I know he's alive out there. I _know _he is,"

"I wish I could help you, but I'm no ranger. It's the steward's life for me," Sam doubted him, that was for sure. Most people in Castle Black did. Frankly, he was starting to doubt it himself. First Ranger or not, how could _any _man survive out there, beyond the Wall? He remembered the deserter his father's men had found; it seemed like a million years ago. The young man had spoken of White Walkers and Wights…what if he had been right?

"It is an honor being a steward," Jon said, although the words were a complete lie.

"Not much, really," Samwell confessed. "But there's food," A smile found its way onto the Stark bastard's face. Food and girls were really the only two things Sam ever talked about, which Lyra constantly teased him for.

The Lord Commander began to walk down the stairs. "_Here_, you will begin anew," His boots echoed loudly in the otherwise silent courtyard. "A man of the Night's Watch lives his life for the _realm_," He stood in front of all the recruits, one hand on the pommel of his sword, the other gripping the list of the jobs for all the boys. "Not for a _king_, or a lord, or the honor of _this _house or _that _house. Not for gold, or glory, or a woman's love. But for the _realm _and all the people in it,"

"I think we get it," Lyra muttered under her breath, cowering deeper into her cloak. Snow lightly kicked her in the shin, silencing her.

"You've all learnt the words for your vows. Think carefully before you say them," Jeor warned. Ser Jaime Lannister's words came back to him; _"After all…it's only for life." _

"The penalty for desertion is death," The Old Bear reminded them. His eyes intently scrutinized the faces of each and every one of the recruits. "You can take your vows here, tonight, at sunset. Do any of you still keep the Old Gods?"

Jon was the only one to stand up. "I do, my lord,"

"You want to take your vows before a heart tree as your uncle did?"

"Yes, my lord,"

"You'll find a weirwood a mile north of the Wall. And your Old Gods, too, maybe," He let out a quiet chuckle.

"My lord," Samwell stood up, surprising everyone present. "Might I go as well?"

"Does House Tarly keep the Old Gods?" Mormont asked, all hint of amusement wiped off his face.

"No, my lord," The fat boy admitted. "I was named in the light of the Seven, as my father was, and his father before him,"

"Why would you forsake the gods of your father and your house?" Ser Alliser Thorne spoke up from the balcony. His lips were twisted into a snarl as he glared at Sam.

"The Night's Watch is my house now," Samwell replied after a few moments of silence. "The Seven have never answered my prayers. Perhaps the Old Gods will," For once, Thorne was speechless.

Jeor nodded curtly. "As you wish,"

"My lord?" Lyra tentatively rose from her seat. "If it would please, I would like to go with them,"

He eyed her with slight suspicion. "Do you keep the Old Gods?"

She licked her lips and kicked at the snow on the ground. "I've never believed in any gods. But, as Samwell said, the Night's Watch is my house now. And perhaps it's time that I've gotten some faith,"

"Very well," The Old Bear nodded again. She smiled at him gratefully as she, Jon and Sam took their seats once more. "You've all been assigned an order, according to our needs and your strengths," With gloved hands, he unraveled the parchment paper.

Snow didn't hear any of the names being rattled off until Jeor called his. "Jon, to the stewards," Time seemed to slow down as his brain processed this. The _stewards_? Hell, Grenn and Lyra had been chosen as rangers, and _he _had taught _them_. He was the best one here, and he bloody knew it. All of his friends stared at him in disbelief, but the only one he paid attention to was Ser Alliser. The older man was watching him, a smug smirk on his face. _He did this. It was him._

The recruits in the courtyard split up as the knights called them forward. Jon felt a tugging on his sleeve and looked down. He met Lyra's green eyes, which were filled with concern. "Are you alright?" He nodded and avoided her gaze. "Look, I've got to go. T-they called me-"

"Right," He frowned. "Go ahead. I'll see you later," She waved to him and the rest of their group before walking off with Grenn to the small group of rangers. Reluctantly, Snow trudged towards Maester Aemon and the other stewards.

"Samwell," The old blind man called, tightly hanging onto the banister. "You will assist me in the rookery and library. Pyp, you will report to Bowen Marsh in the kitchens. Luke, you will report to One Eyed Joe in the stables. Dareon…we are sending you to Eastwatch. Present yourself to Borcus when you arrive, and make _no comment _about his nose," Nervous chuckled echoed within the small group.

Jon held his breath; _please don't put me with Ser Alliser…please don't put me with- _

"Jon Snow," Aemon addressed him. "Lord Commander Mormont has requested you for his personal steward,"

Anger coursed through his veins. Hadn't it been the Lord Commander who had told him he was suited to be a ranger? And Lyra, and Tyrion, and Sam, and his uncle? "Will I serve the Lord Commander his meals and fetch hot water for his bath?" He spat out, glaring at the blind man.

"Certainly," The Maester responded coolly. "And keep a fire burning in his chambers, change his sheets and blankets daily, and do everything else the Lord Commander requires of you,"

The bastard pushed past the other boys and stared up at the old man, incredulous. "Do you take me for a servant?"

"We took you for a man of the Night's Watch," Aemon countered smoothly. "But perhaps we were wrong in that,"

Jon clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to control his temper. "May I go?"

"As you wish," Snow stormed out of the courtyard, ignoring Pyp and Sam's calls. _Just leave me alone! All of you, leave me alone!_

"Don't you see what they're doing?" Samwell begged, catching up to him, with Pypar in tow.

"I see Ser Alliser's revenge, that's all," He snapped, pulling off his leather gloves. "He wanted it, and he _got _it! Stewards are nothing but maids," He wasn't even thinking now; the words simply tumbled out of his mouth, and there seemed to be no way of stopping them. "I'm a better swordsman and a better rider than any of you!"

"Aren't you modest, _Lord Snow_?" Lyra scowled, interrupting his ramblings as she strode up to the three boys. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. He knew that look very well; _I'm not having any of your bullshit, Jon Snow._

He matched her glare. "It's not _fair_!"

"Fair?" Pyp repeated, narrowing his eyes. He let out a disbelieving laugh. "I was singing for a high lord at Acorn Hall when he put his hand on my leg and wanted to see my cock," The humorless smile fell right off his face. "I pushed him away and he said he'd have my hands cut off for stealing their silver. So now I'm here. At the end of the world with no one to sing for but old men and little shits like you," He stared intently at Jon Snow, fire in his eyes. "I'll never see my family again. I'll never be inside a woman again. So don't tell me about fair,"

"_I _thought you were caught stealing a wheel of cheese for your starving sister?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Pypar laughed dryly. "'Course I'm gonna tell a bunch strangers how a lord tried to grab my cock," Samwell nodded in understanding.

"Could you sing me a song, Pyp? I'd like to hear a song," Pyp rolled his eyes and left the three others.

Lyra elbowed Sam in the ribs. "What, and my singing's not good enough?" She tried to sound threatening, but her face cracked into a grin and she let out a laugh. "And Jon, get it through your fat head; this is a _good _thing," She smacked him on the top of the head, as if to prove her point.

"Elias is right!" Tarly exclaimed. "The old man is the _Lord Commander _of the Night's Watch. You'll be with him day and night. Yes, you'll clean his clothes…but you'll also take his letters, attend him at meetings, _squire for him in battle_," He raised his eyebrows for emphasis. "You'll know _everything_. Be part of everything. And he asked for _you _himself! He wants to groom you for command!"

"Look at this, Sam!" The Lannister gushed, ruffling Jon's hair. "Our little boy's growing up. Soon they'll be calling you the Old Wolf," He ducked away from her when she tried to pinch his cheek.

"I just always wanted to be a ranger," Snow told them. He shot Lyra a grateful look when she refrained from rubbing it in that she had been chosen as one. _She'll probably wait to do it when we're alone_.

Samwell bit back a grin. "I always wanted to be a wizard," Lyra let out a hoot and clapped her hands at that, laughter escaping her lips. Jon couldn't help but laugh with her. "What?" Sam cried, but there was no mistaking the grin on his face. "No, I'm serious!" Jon and Lyra only laughed harder. Tarly eventually gave up. "So, you'll stay and say your words with me?" He looked to the girl. "Well, us?"

Lyra sobered and ruffled Snow's hair again. "Like he would ever want to leave us."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Super short chapter this time, guys. Sorry about that D: I wrote this in the span of an hour or so and I really just wanted to get this up.

PLOT TWISTS (and winter) ARE COMING UP WITHIN THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS, WOOHOO!

Thanks to Charlotte K for the beta!

Also, GO LIKE MY FACEBOOK PAGE GUYS. It would mean a lot! The link's on my profile, but you can just search Leapylion3 Fanfiction on Facebook.

Thanks for reading/faving/subscribing and most especially reviewing! You know, dropping a review wouldn't hurt... ;)

Enjoy! Mwah!

* * *

**_Lyra_**

The tunnel's gate opened in front of them, the chains groaning and the wood creaking. The torches blazed in their hands, and she couldn't help but think that the fire would melt down the entire structure. She almost laughed at that, but the laughter died on her lips when she saw Jon's serious face out of the corner of her eye. The flickering light from the torches cast an eerie glow over him, making him look almost inhuman.

Lyra sighed quietly and switched the torch to her other hand. She tried to act casual around him, but she couldn't look at him the same way ever since what happened the night before. _It was a stupid mistake. You should have slammed the door in his face. He brought your favourite wine and he was without a shirt; you __**knew**__ it would end badly._

But that stupid Jon Snow, with his puppy dog eyes and his easy charm. She stole another look at him out of the corner and resisted the urge to smack him right across the face. _It's your fault, bastard_, Lyra decided. If _he _hadn't shown up, she wouldn't have told him the truth, and she wouldn't have offered to let him bed her. If he hadn't shown up, he never would have actually _accepted_.

_Fuck you, Jon Snow._

The Lannister sucked in a deep breath at the sight in front of her. _So this is it_, she mused. _Beyond the Wall. _Never had she seen something so vast, untouched, _pure_. The landscape in front of her was somehow more astounding and breathtaking than the Wall itself, yet she couldn't help but want to scurry back to Castle Black. _The Wall is safe…it's why you came here in the first place_. Beyond, it was wild and untamed…and dangerous.

It seemed like forever until they finally reached the heart tree. By the time they arrived, her legs ached from trudging in and out of the thick snow. She practically collapsed on her knees in front of the tree. The red sap trickled down the tree's face, making it look like it was crying blood. It both alarmed her and amazed her; it was almost as if she could feel the gods' presence. She'd never been in a real godswood before, but she'd seen one or two heart trees in her sixteen years. She had never cared much about them; to her, they had always been just another tree with a special name. But up North…here, it was different. Up North, the gods actually had powers.

Jon kneeled next to her, his expression solemn. Samwell kneeled on Snow's other side, a nervous air around him. "This is it," Lyra muttered, more to herself than anyone. _You're about to become the first Sworn Sister of the Night's Watch…in theory. _From under her lashes, she watched the knights gather around them to witness their vows. _No backing out now, Lee_.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently sending out a prayer. _I know I've lied, and I know I've dishonored myself, but I'm here to change that. I'm putting my past behind me, and I can only hope you will do the same…_The girl wrinkled her nose. Was that how you prayed? She figured it must have been similar to praying to the Seven. But when was the last time she had prayed to Them?

"Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife-" _Husband._ "Hold no lands, father-" _Mother_. "-no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realm of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch for this night…and all the nights to come,"

The heart tree seemed to be mocking her. A wide, toothless grin was carved into the tree and it stared at her through half-closed eyes. _Welcome to the rest of your life_. She could have sworn she heard cackling echo through the forest, sending shudders down her spine. _You're just imagining things, Lee. _

"You knelt as boys," Bowen Marsh declared. _Sure…__**boys**__. _"Rise- as men of the Night's Watch," Lyra was the first to hop up, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Jon stood up next and helped Sam to his feet. The three looked at each other for a moment before their faces broke out into grins. They enveloped each other in a tight hug, laughing like little children. The trio hugged the other knights and shook their hands. The older men murmured words of encouragement and congratulations. _You did it, Lyra Lannister. Welcome to the Watch._

Ghost entered the clearing, panting loudly, his tail wagging back and forth. "What's he got there?" Tarly asked, squinting to get a better look. What was in the direwolf's mouth was bonelike, although Lyra wasn't too sure from this distance.

Snow crouched down and reached out toward the wolf. "To me, Ghost," He commanded quietly. "Bring it here," Ghost trotted towards him and placed the object at his feet.

Lyra's green eyes widened. "_Bloody hell_!" She breathed, dropping down on the floor next to the Stark bastard.

"Gods be good!" Sam squeaked. The hand was covered in soot, dirt and grime. Underneath, the skin was a sickly and pale white, almost blue. Despite being cut off…there was no blood. The Stark words were all she could think of as she stared at the cold, dead hand. _Why do you Starks always have to be right in the end?_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

You guys! Crapcakes! I am so so SO sorry for the delay! The past couple of weeks, my teachers have decided that I have no right to a social life or free time. Plus, I got really sick and holy shit I couldn't function for a couple days.

Anyway, enough with the excuses!

Thanks to The Lady Bard for the beta!

This is the last full chapter, you guys! The epilogue should be uploaded within a couple minutes, and then I'll talk about where we go from there.

I'll also have the whole big fluff speech on the epilogue ahaha.

Thanks to everyone who reads/faves/subscribes and, of course, reviews!

Enjoy! xoxo

* * *

**_Jon_**

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on her door. Jon heard curses and commotion coming from the other side of the door, followed by a quick acknowledgement of his presence. He smiled and leaned against the wall, waiting for her. _Typical Lyra._

She came out a few moments later, her hair dishevelled and her eyes half-closed. "What?" She snapped, her voice groggy and agitated. "Can't I celebrate me becoming a ranger on my own?"

Jon quirked up an eyebrow at her and smirked. "And what exactly where you doing to 'celebrate'?" He mocked her accent and tone of voice, making her seethe.

"I was sleeping, thank you very much. As is any sane person at midnight," She growled, folding her arms across her chest. "What are you doing here, Jon Snow?"

He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose sleeping breeches. "It's my last night in Hardin's Tower…my last night with you. I just wanted to spend some time-"

"Oh, that's right; you're the Old Bear's _maid _now. Remember that, Jon Snow? How stewards are nothing more than _maids_?" He flinched; her words stung like a slap to the face. He knew Lyra to be bold, sarcastic and witty, but never this…_cruel_. He wasn't sure what had gotten into her, but warning bells went off in his head. _Just walk away while you still can_.

"So you came to spend some time with me, huh?" Her green eyes were cold and unforgiving. "What, you want one last _fuck _before you move? Is that it?" Her words hit him hard yet again; was that truly what she now thought of him?

"I-I just wanted to talk," Jon tried, still dumfounded. Where was all of this coming from, so suddenly? She had acted like she usually did earlier in the day, and then again when they took their vows.

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "I think we're done talking, Jon Snow," She moved to slam the door shut, but he caught it just in time.

He stepped inside her room and closed the door behind him. "Please, Lyra," Snow begged. "I'm sorry," He put a gentle hand on her arm and met her piercing gaze.

She jerked away her arm away from his touch and kept her arms at her sides. "Do you even know what you're apologizing _for_?"

He rolled his eyes, her bad attitude getting on his nerves. What gave her the right to act this way? "Well perhaps if you would _tell_ me as to _why_ you're so upset, we can work something out," He took a small step forward, looking down on her. "And _don't _use the 'you were sleeping' excuse, because both of us know that's not the reason why,"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Really? You have absolutely no idea?" She snorted and shook her head, her messy, cropped hair tossing from side to side. "I guess it's because _you're_ not the one who got tossed aside like nothing more than a _whore_," She eyed him accusingly, her lips twisted into a scowl.

He wanted nothing more than to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. "Have you gone mad?" Jon demanded. "What's gotten into you?"

Lyra jabbed a finger into his chest, her green eyes ablaze. "I think _you're_ the mad one here, Jon Snow. You fuck me twice and then act as if nothing ever happened between us!"

"You actually think I can go around and show you off to everyone?" He was practically yelling now; he wouldn't be surprised if the Brothers could hear him in the other towers. "In case you've forgotten, we're at the _Wall_! We've taken our _vows_! Hell, you're supposed to be a _man_!"

"You know that's not what I meant," She shot back, taking her hand off his chest. "You left in the morning without so much as a goodbye! It was as if you'd only wanted me for what was in between my legs, and once you were done, I didn't matter anymore! I felt like a complete _whore_ afterward!"

His lips set into a firm line. "I can't risk anything,"

"You know I'm not asking you to flaunt the fact how we fucked each other; I'm not stupid. I know what would happen. I like living and I plan to _stay _living," She straightened her back and took a step forward, her eyes cold, challenging and calculating. "I would just _appreciate_ it if you actually showed some _emotion _towards me, instead of blocking me off all the time!"

"You're overreacting," He criticised, putting his hands on his hips. "I _had _to leave, you know that-"

"_Overreacting_?" She repeated, gaping at him. "Gods, Jon Snow, do you know _anything_?"

_Just walk away, Jon… _"_I_ do! Do _you_?" He rolled his eyes once more. "Clearly not,"

"You could have _thanked_ me!"

Without thinking, he blurted out, "Do you want my money, too?" Her hand connected with his cheek immediately after. _Nice one, Snow._

Holding his cheek, he slowly looked up at the Lannister girl. She was breathing heavily through parted lips, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides with each breath she took.

"You're an idiot, Jon Snow, you know that?" She whispered. Her eyes became watery and glassy, but she didn't back down. "I don't know _where_ you get the idea that you're better than me-"

"I never said that!"

"-but I'll have you know that I belong to the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. Just because my house may not be the most oh-so honorable _doesn't_ give you the right to speak to me that way," The hard mask set over her face once more. "So pull your head out of your arse and look around you; no one gives a _fuck_ about who your father is, nor do they care that you're a bastard. Right now, you're the Old Bear's _maid_. And don't forget it,"

Jon resisted the urge to strike her. Instead, he took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for a night-long argument. "Do you even _think_ before you speak?"

Lyra clenched her jaw firmly. "Says the one who was actually stupid enough to offer me money," She held her head high, adopting the persona of the noble lady she was meant to be. "I want you to leave. _Now_," She gave him one last glare before turning away and going back onto her bed. She sat down and grabbed one of the books from the pile on her nightstand.

Her brusque dismissal sent a fresh wave of anger over him. "And if I refuse?" He gritted out, watching her flip to a random page.

"Then you're even stupider than I thought, Jon Snow," Lannister quipped, never looking away from her book. She tucked her legs under her and curled up on the corner of her bed.

He began to pace the length of her room, not sure what to say. Snow sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefingers. "Look, I'm sorry-"

"Oh, you're still here?" Her tone was laced with ice, and dripped with disdain. She slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the bed. "Do you _ever _do what someone tells you to?" She crossed the room and folded her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"Funny how _you're _the one asking me this," The Stark bastard shot back. "As I distinctly recall, _you're _the one who left your home so you wouldn't be married off," This only earned him another slap to the face. "Will you stop doing that?" He hissed, holding his throbbing and reddening cheek.

"I will when you stop being a complete _moron_," She spat. She didn't even bother adjusting her loose sleeping tunic, which had slipped off her shoulder after she slapped him. Jon found himself staring at the tantalizing patch of bare skin, lightly tanned from the several years spent living in the South. It was tinted a light red, due to her anger.

He didn't know what on earth had possessed him to do it, but he did it. Maybe he was as stupid as she said he was; it would explain his action that would have once seemed horrifying and terrible to him.

He kissed her.

It wasn't as if they hadn't done it before. Just this morning, he had been inside her, his lips latched onto hers. But this time...it was different.

Before he knew it, he had her pressed up against the wall, their hands frantically pulling at each others' clothes. Their tunics were tossed to the ground, and their breeches soon followed. Lannister worked on removing their smallclothes while Jon attacked her neck with heated kisses.

Lyra, as stubborn as ever, threw half-hearted profanities and insults at him as his lips traveled lower and lower down her body. Her fingers tangled in his hair, insistently tugging. A blue streak of curses escaped her lips when he knelt down in front of her, his hands tightly gripping her hips. Finally, her smallclothes were off, joining the rest of their garments in the messy pile. One of her legs was thrown over his shoulder, and he couldn't help but let out a chuckle at her precarious balance.

She let out a high whine in the back of her throat and thrust her hips forward. Jon grinned wolfishly and flicked his eyes upward, meeting her green ones. She was gnawing on her bottom lip, a lovely pink flush coloring her cheeks. She stuttered out something incoherent and tugged on his hair once more. "J-Jon, p-_please_," Lyra cried, arching her back.

Snow obliged automatically, licking and sucking at her center. She threw her head back, the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard coming from her lips. He barely even felt the pain of her pulling at his hair anymore. Her smell was intoxicating, making him feel dizzy and lightheaded.  
Lannister loudly moaned his name as she came, easing her grip on his locks. Reluctantly, she removed her leg from his shoulder, breathing heavily. He kissed his way up her body and met her lips in a soft kiss.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his smallclothes and pushed them off his hips. He kicked the offending garment to the floor and groaned loudly as she ground her hips against his. He realized he was hard; _painfully_ hard. "I need you," He breathed, nuzzling the delicate skin of her neck.

"So have me," Lyra shot back, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her eyes were hooded with lust and desire as she held tightly onto his shoulders. Unable to wait any longer, Jon slipped inside her and took her right there, against the stone wall.

They didn't kiss this time. Instead, they stared into each others' eyes, silently challenging and daring one another. Her full lips were curved into a smirk he had come to know so well; _you're so stupid, Jon Snow_.

His fingers dug into the soft skin of her thighs as he came, finally crushing his lips to hers to stifle his groans. She climaxed a moment later, moaning into his mouth. Slowly, he pulled out of her and set her back onto the ground, his forehead resting against hers.

Lyra dragged her teeth against her bottom lip. She took her hands off his shoulders and stared at him, unblinking. Her voice was deathly soft, her face the epitome of innocence; "I want you to leave."


	16. Epilogue

And here's the epilogue!

I just want to say thank you, to each and every one of you, who have made this story possible. I wouldn't be writing and posting if it weren't for you guys. So thank you. Give yourselves a pat on the back. And thanks for sticking with me through all of my shit. It really means a lot.

More author's note will be down at the bottom!

Thanks for all the subscriptions/faves/reviews! I love you guys!

Enjoy this one last chapter...

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**_Lyra_**

With slow and unsure steps, she walked to Jon Snow's quarters, her gloved hands trembling in her pockets. It had been several days since they'd last spoken to one another...well, _yelled_. She grimaced just thinking about their last encounter; it hadn't started out well, and it ended possibly even worse. Apart from awkwardly meeting each others' eyes a few times in the courtyard, they hadn't had any interactions. And- although she loathed to admit it- she missed their banter and their teasing. Most of all, she missed _him_.

She'd heard about the incident last night; hell, she even smelt the smoke all the way from her chambers. The entire Lord Commander's tower had been burnt down, thanks to a Wight attack. _And thanks to Jon's damned bravery and honor and pure stupidity... _

Shudders ran up and down her spine when she thought of the attack. Sure, she'd heard tales and legends about the Walkers and Wights when she was a girl, but she had never thought them to be more than another one of her brothers' failed attempts to frighten her.

_Winter's coming, Lee. You're going to see a lot more than towers burning down. A lot worse than a burnt hand is going to happen._

Lyra had joined the other Night's Watch men in the courtyard as Jon and the Lord Commander came barreling out of the tower. Even from afar, she saw the blisters and burns on Jon's hand. He had tried very hard to cover his hand with his cloak, but the others noticed almost immediately. Within seconds, he was rushed to Maester Aemon to have his wounds dressed.

She couldn't even imagine how Jon and Mormont must have felt. She became queasy just seeing the dead bodies after the rangers brought them to Castle Black. Never did she think her brothers' horror stories would become real.

For some odd reason, as she raised her hand to knock on the door, the thought of Jonah Magos crossed her mind. Jonah, who was now dead, just like Jafer Flowers and Othor. She found it strange that she hadn't thought of him in awhile; she instantly felt guilty and remorseful. Had Jon replaced him? She shook her head as she waited for someone to answer the door.

No, she decided. No one could replace Jonah. Jonah, who had loved her, and died for her.

She heard shuffled steps approaching.

_Would Jon Snow die for me?_

_That's not a fair question._ Lyra shifted her weight from one foot to another as she waited to be let inside. _Jon saw you as a little brother and then a bedwarmer...he never loved you. Not like Jonah did._

Samwell Tarly opened the door, his face contorted into a grimace. "Oh, hello, Elias," He attempted to sound cheery, but that hope was shot out the window with only one look at his frowning face.

"I'm not blind," She chastised, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. She licked her lips and lowered her voice. "I know something's wrong. How is he?"

"Nothing's wrong. Not really," The fat boy stammered, sweat gathering at his brow. Despite his nervous air, she knew he wasn't lying. "He's doing well. It's just pretty…_gruesome_," He swallowed visibly.

She smiled softly and leaned against the doorway. "Well, Sammy, you're gonna have to get used to it. Someone could come to you with their arm chopped right off and you'll have to deal with it," She let out a quiet chuckle at the horrified look on his face.

Tarly cleared his throat and composed himself. "I suppose you're here to see Jon…I'm just changing his bandages. You can come in, if you want. I'll leave you two after that," He led Lyra inside and sat back down next to Jon. He continued his earlier task and peeled off the soaked bandages. Lannister immediately felt ill after seeing what was under it; hideous, angry red gashes, blisters and burns. She sucked in a deep breath and focused on a spot on the floor.

"All done," Samwell declared a short while later. He stepped away from Jon and clapped him on his shoulder. "I'll leave you two alone," Lyra flicked her green eyes upward just as Sam closed the door behind him. An awkward silence settled over them. The tension in the room was so thick, she swore she could cut it with her dagger.

"What are you doing here?" Snow asked harshly, breaking the silence. He cradled his injured hand, his lips pursed. Lannister finally met his gaze, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears. She was certain he could hear it.

"I came to see how you were doing," She said lamely, running her fingers through her uneven hair. She made a mental note to dye it again in the morning. She rested her elbows on her knees and watched him with wide, tired eyes. "And to apologize. I can't believe I'm saying this, but, gods, Jon Snow, I miss you," She let out a humourless laugh and rubbed a hand over her face. The words seemed to tumble out of her mouth, but she couldn't deny their truth. "I miss talking to you, I miss seeing you smile and I miss hearing you laugh. I'm sorry, Jon," Tears burned in the corners of her eyes, but she would not cry. She _would not_…

Jon leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. Her resolve completely crumpled and she found herself sobbing into his arms. She buried her face in the crook of her neck, mumbling half-hearted apologies for the tears. He said nothing; instead, he continued to soothingly stroke her hair, listening to her tearful excuses and trailed off sentences.

"I was so worried," She whispered, clutching onto his doublet as if her life depended on it. "Jon, if you'd died, I don't know-"

"Don't talk that way," Snow interrupted, his voice cracking. He nuzzled her cheek, his warm, sweet breath tickling the side of her face. "Please. You're strong, Lyra. You don't need me," She could only sniffle in response. She felt her heart leap into her throat, and her mouth was abnormally and irritatingly dry.

A small voice at the back of her mind brought a new wave of tears to her eyes. _What would Jonah think?_

_He's dead. I can't do anything about that._

"Jon?" Her voice sounded foreign in her ears. He made a quiet noise in acknowledgement, his face still hidden in her messy hair. "T-the Wight…" She stammered, gnawing on her bottom lip. "More will be coming. I know it," She felt like she had just swallowed a ball of ice, the dreadful and cold sensation settling in the pit of her stomach. _They've been asleep for a thousand years…they have to wake up some time or another…_

The Stark bastard sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to her temple. He intertwined the fingers on his good hand with hers. "Winter is coming, Lyra Lannister."

* * *

**_Continued in Queen in the North..._**

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So, my luvs, this is NOT the last you will see of Lyra and Jon! Their adventure shall continue in my other fanfiction, Queen in the North, which is up on my profile and already has several chapters up c:

So that poll from a few weeks ago DID come in handy! ehehe.

Thanks again for everything, you guys! Now go and check out Queen in the North! :D

Also, I have a silly story going on, but it'll be uploaded much less frequently; A Song of Glee and Show Choir. Modern-era Glee!AU Game of Thrones...pretty, weird, I know XD But go check it out if ya want!

Adieu, my friends! Until next time!


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